


From The Web

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Blood and Gore, Complete, Consensual Kink, Dead People, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Giant Spiders, Guilt, Humanverse, Lots of dead people, Love, M/M, Spiders, Sufin is only in one chapter, Swearing, Violence, Violent Sex, War Crimes, gore is not related to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-06-23 17:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15611466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Alfred Jones, passionate wannabe entomologist, comes to the aid of his dearest online friend Ivan. Surprising discoveries are revealed when Ivan shows up at the front door. Not everyone on the web is honest!





	1. Chapter 1

“Three over easy egg burgers with the works! Small chocolate shake, and medium fries!” the headset buzzed into Alfred's ears. The sunny blonde said nothing, working like a machine. After over 2000 burgers, they were honestly all the same to him. Ironically he used to love burgers, until his job as a line cook at Burger Town. Now he couldn't eat one without throwing up. The hiss and snarl of grease on the grill, faceless pink patties staring at him.

Only two hours until Alfred could go home.

Slipping the fried egg on top of the browned patty, Alfred toss the rest of the sandwiches together with minimum effort. The greasy junk was dropped in a bag and slid down the counter. “Three dressed easy's, shake, and fries.” Alfred reported to the drive through guy mindlessly. Today it was Joseph, some fresh bitch that wouldn't shut up about going to university.

With a lull in business, the young adult sparked up conversation yet again. Normally Alfred was all for this, but today he was crushingly depressed.

“When I get to university, I'm going to get out of this place.” The kid boasted. 

“What are you taking?” Alfred asked absently already knowing the answer. They had this conversation at least once a week after all.

“Political sciences. It's going to be the best.”

God. Just hearing these rote responses was sickening. It was like looking at a younger version of himself. So insistent on becoming an entomologist when he was little. Not surprisingly, there was zero jobs available for the field when he emerged from his educational cocoon. It was the first harsh lesson of life, it didn't fucking care if you had a doctorate.

“Mmhmm. What are you going to do with it?” Alfred asked, not really paying attention. The first interesting thing of the day occurred. It was a fly on the wall. Not just any fly, but a Drosophila melanogaster, the common fruit fly. They could come in a range of colours but they were typically brown, and were easy to breed for tests and experiments. Due to their genetic simplicity, they were very popular in –

“Hey! You stared at the wall a long time.” The drive through guy jaunted Alfred back to reality with a touch on the shoulder, a fog of memories about various bugs cleared.

“Oh. I was distracted by a fruit fly on the wall. Did you know they have four genetic...” Alfred trailed off. The other guy was already looking at his phone, not paying attention. _Kids_. Though to be fair, Alfred was only 27 himself. He was just moody about his wasted youth in school. If he had known he was going to be a line cook anyway, he would have settled for selling medical pot with his brother Matthew.

Alfred looked at the wall clock again. An hour and a half to go.

When he finally got off work, Alfred was quick to shed his demeaning orange and blue uniform. Instead he wore an ancient Jurassic Park shirt and worn jeans. Chucking the rank work clothes in a garbage bag, he was determined not to make the car stink like grease. His car was nothing special by any means. It would suck if the vehicle was ruined by work.

After a quick drive down the old highway, Alfred arrived at home. It was a quaint old house, just as visually cluttered as it was outside. The clutter was actually the cause of Alfred's woes. Because it wasn't just clutter, but preserved bugs on the walls in frames. There was so many, Alfred's latest roommate was disgusted and horrified.

Alfred and the man had tried to work things out. After all, Rurik was a fit Adonis of a physics professor that was fresh from a divorce. Alfred was more than willing to be his rebound lover, admittedly the only motivation to taking him in. Having an exotic Russian stud rocking his world was almost as motivating as paying the rent.

Yet, it was not to be. Rurik was honestly a total dick. He didn't like bugs, or grilled cheese, or bad 1980's cartoons. He was a traitor and wore contact lenses, even though glasses were clearly much more interesting. It was a possibility to frame your face stylishly, who wasn't into that?

So Alfred was alone again in his chaotic home, with only his massive ant farm for company. As cool as bugs were, they made for shit conversation. Ants also didn't pay the rent despite there being 328 of them. Frustrated, Alfred pushed up his blue framed glasses and slid the lap top computer over. Perching it on his folded legs, he lounged on the couch as he crawled the internet.

After getting incredibly distracted by light bondage videos, Alfred cleaned up and got back to important things. Finding a new roommate as soon as possible. Rent was looming near, with only two weeks left until it's terrifying approach. A whole house was too expensive for one line cook!

All the ads for people seeking rooms were freaky, desperate, or too vague. To write an ad seemed so needy and pretentious. How he needed the money though! Stuck at this crossroads yet again, Alfred sighed and rubbed his temples. Fuck it. He would make a post about this tomorrow. After such a stressful shift, he only wanted to relax.

Alfred signed onto his favourite voice chat application, happy to see his favourite user online. CyberianSpid3r. Initially the online contact had met him on a spider enthusiast website. The two unwittingly became online pen pals over two years ago. They were truly online best friends forever, telling each other everything. The ping of an electric greeting grabbed Alfred's attention. A text awaited him.

CyberianSpid3r: Hello Alfred!

Crawlycutie_51: Hey Ivan!

CyberianSpid3r: How was work?

Crawlycutie_51: Fucking terrible.

CyberianSpid3r: Why?

Alfred went on to spill his guts about work, his latest crap roommate, and even a nightmare he had last week. Truthfully, the stress of life was really making the tanned blonde crack inside. He wished he had a flesh and blood friend, not just a single online one and a box of sex toys.

CyberianSpid3r: Don't be sad. I'm sure everything will get better. At least you're not getting evicted because your landlord is a racist.

Crawlycutie_51: WTF. They can't do that to you. You're awesome.

CyberianSpid3r: They can and have. I have three weeks to move and... I don't know if I can talk about it here. It's a lot of stuff.

Crawlycutie_51: Then don't. Talk to me. For real talk to me.

CyberianSpid3r: Are you sure?

Crawlycutie_51: Duh. We're friends.

There was a long pause, with no response. Alfred sucked in a breath, had he been to forward again? Sometimes Ivan would become shy and not talk for days from admittedly flirtatious one liners. It couldn't be helped when they shared so many hobbies. Getting him on video chat was next to impossible. The most Alfred had ever seen of his only real friend was a clothed upper torso and a shy smile with shaggy ashen blonde hair. It wasn't even enough to judge if Ivan was tall or short or fat or _anything_.

Finally, a video call invitation was sent. He accepted it instantly, eager to see another human being that wasn't a prick. A weepy looking Ivan appeared on screen in a baggy gym sweater, clutching a napkin. “I'm not the most presentable right now.” the upset man joked, his pale complexion blue tinted from computer glare.

“Tell me everything Ivan! You don't deserve to be sad.” Alfred demanded, his own sorrows pushed aside for another.

Ivan was much like a precocious cat. He could brood like no other and had to be approached slowly. It took about thirty minutes to cajole his way to the truth of what happened. It was a simple event that dragged him to this state, but one Alfred was very familiar with.

Ivan's landlord had seen his pet Mexican Redleg Tarantula named Boris. The docile arachnid was as large as a species of that variant could get, with many more years of life expected out of him. The landlord saw differently, terrified of such things. 

“Ivan, It'll be okay! I've been evicted before for my ant farms, but I've always found new places to live.” Alfred soothed to no effect.

“You don't get it! I have no one left to fall back on. I'm going to be homeless! People like me don't just get new places after one internet search.”

It was so distressing to see the vaguely Russian man like this. Something had to be done. “People like... Ivan. You're making no sense. You're a cool guy. You know what?”

“What?” Ivan sniffled, dabbing the last of the larger tears away.

“You can be my roommate.” Alfred proposed impulsively, wondering if he was going to regret this. Probably not, since he was so smart.

Ivan froze a moment in an astonished expression, and Alfred wondered if the internet connection was weak today. It wasn't. “Alfred, you don't mean that.”

“I do. I really do.” he insisted, familiar with Ivan's unending pessimism.

“I'm in Washington, and you're in Texas. It's not feasible.”

“Then buy tickets! Get your fat ass over here.”

“I can't _afford_ plane tickets. I'm going to be homeless.”

Alfred sighed, knowing he didn't have the finances for a lot of his claims right now. “I don't care. We'll go dutch on the ticket if you want. You're my only friend, and I'm not going to sit around while you lose everything.”

Ivan hid a barely visible blush in his hoodie, looking ready to cry. He quickly gathered his thoughts. “You really mean it.”

“Yes, obviously.”

There was another pause, as Ivan seemed cautiously happy. It was a rare but welcome sight. “How much do you really like spiders Alfred?”

“You know I love all bugs and spiders. I did four years of school for it.”

“What... what about six foot tall spiders? Or little ones?” Ivan asked, sounding weirder than usual.

Alfred snorted in humour at the suggestion of a six foot tall spider. That was simply impossible, since spiders had to absorb oxygen through surface vessels. Without lungs, they simply couldn't deliver enough oxygen to bodies bigger than Alfred's fist. “A six foot tall spider would be crazy to see, but whatever. I'd still love spiders.”

“Oh...” Ivan muttered in a breathy sort of way, blushing darker. “Well, um. I guess I could sell off my furniture to get a plane ticket, or most of one. Come over with my clothes and Boris.”

“Really?” Alfred squealed with joy, not actually believing Ivan would accept the offer.

“Yes. If you mean this.”

“I super do. I like... one million percent mean it. We're going to be roomies! I have so many theories of web pattern generation I want to share with you.” Alfred went on, absolutely ecstatic.

“I look forward to them.” Ivan answered sincerely. “I have to go... but we can figure out the finances later tonight?”

“Of course. See you later Ivy!” Alfred hung up after, pleased with his impulsive idea. This was going to be awesome!


	2. Chapter 2

Teenagers were officially the worst. Today was supposed to be the day of all days. Ivan was landing today in Houston, and Alfred was itching to be there and pick up his pen pal of almost three years. But some snot nosed bitch called in sick on a Friday, the second busiest day of the week, next to Saturday.

Slinging patties the fastest he could, Alfred barely survived the understaffed two hours taking orders for the overwhelmed window guy from time to time. But the end he was nothing but frazzled nerves and grease stained uniform. Finally, in the lull, he looked down at his watch.

It was two hours later than when he planned to leave. He missed picking up Ivan! Oh _shit_! Alfred scrambled to change into normal clothes and speed home. There was six texts from Ivan, each a little more despondent than the last. They were from a half hour ago.

CyberianSpid3r: I landed at the airport. I don't see you.

CyberianSpid3r: I've been waiting a while. I don't know if this is a joke, but i'm going to find a taxi to your house.

CyberianSpid3r: This isn't funny Alfred.

CyberianSpid3r: I can't afford the taxi ride there, so I'm sticking the bill on you.

CyberianSpid3r: Where were you!?

CyberianSpid3r: If this is a prank, I'm going to kill you!!!

Sending texts frantically, Alfred paced in his living room and kitchen area. Ivan was almost a total recluse for a reason he never willingly revealed. Being stood up at the airport would probably be an unforgivable offence.

Crawlycutie_51: Ivan I'm so sorry! My boss made me stay late because someone was sick.

Crawlycutie_51: I'm serious! I wanted to pick you up.

Crawlycutie_51: Please please please say something!

Crawlycutie_51: I'll tell you anything about me you want.

The messages were marked as seen, which meant the guy was ignoring him. Ivan rarely ignored him, so it was a scary and uncertain thing. Finally after twenty agonizing minutes, Ivan finally responded.

CyberianSpid3r: You've told me most of the embarrassing ones already. I'm still mad at you.

Crawlycutie_51: You can be mad, please just... where are you.

CyberianSpid3r: Being driven to a jerk's house in the middle of no where. The fare is 120 dollars btw. I expect you to pay the whole thing.

Crawlycutie_51: WTF. Why is it so much?

CyberianSpid3r: BECAUSE SOMEONE DIDN'T GIVE ME A RIDE. I had to go over an entire town! JERK!

Crawlycutie_51: I'll pay it! Please just. idk. How was the flight?

CyberianSpid3r: ... Scary. I haven't been on a plane in nine years.

Crawlycutie_51: I'm so sorry!

CyberianSpid3r: You owe me a steak dinner.

For the next fifteen minutes Alfred looked out at every car anxiously that passed. Between these paranoid moments, he picked up clutter off the ground. Finally, an aging yellow taxi pulled into the driveway. With little care for his own appearance, Alfred rushed out to greet the vehicle while still wearing his web patterned kitchen apron.

In the dim of evening, The backseat of the cab looked weirdly full. The driver's terrified expression was even more attention grabbing. “It's 129 dollars.” The driver rasped, scared to look in his own back mirror. All the while, whatever was back there was wiggling awkwardly out. Probably Ivan's stuff.

Only it was not Ivan's stuff. Ivan's familiar ash blond hair left the car. Good god the man was tall, and _gorgeous_. Ivan looked over the top of the vehicle shyly as Alfred gave the last of his cash to the driver. The cab pulled away, and then the scene became surreal.

The tall Russian-American was wearing a long black shirt with a faded scarf to hide his shy expression. That was where the normalcy ended. At the point where human hips would be, a spider body started. It was eight massive spider legs the shade of silvered grey, connected to an exoskeleton. A large abdomen was behind all this, almost fuzzy with near white hairs. Ivan was an impossible fusion of man and spider.

“You could say something.” Ivan said softly, hiding half his face in his scarf.

“Six foot tall spider.” Alfred mumbled, short of breath.

“Now, just breathe and...” Ivan reasoned, walking closer on those strong looking legs.

Slipping into shock as the world spun, Alfred fainted.

Waking slowly, Alfred found himself on the couch. Looking around, he laid eyes on the reason for his condition, Ivan. The vaguely slavic man-spider was looking at him with a tired expression. It was one an old man would wear after a long terrible day. “Welcome back.” he greeted dryly.

“I fainted by _accident_.” Alfred lied, trying to save his pride.

“Oh sure.” Ivan replied, rolling his eyes. The hybrid male was lounging on a chair, but not in the usual way one would. The chair was turned around a bit, with the centre of his spider body resting on the seat cushion. The numerous spider legs relaxed and stacked a little with each other. Ivan's more human upper half rested arms on the top of the back of the padded chair. Ivan's curious yet sad face rested on the arms, Royal purple eyes analyzing Alfred's every breath.

Alfred felt around for his glasses, finding them on the coffee table. Slipping them on, the world became a lot less blurry. It was suddenly clear that the purple dots for eyes were not a mistake.

“Holy shit Ivan! Your eyes are really purple. I just thought it was computer glare but they are for real purple!” 

Ivan merely averted his gaze shyly, non verbal. Alfred stood and clearly saw the rest of Ivan for the first time. The ashen grey arachnid sections looked slightly fuzzy to the touch. Ignoring a rattling hiss of irritation, He lowered a hand to pet that large spider abdomen.

A lightning fast kick from two back legs sent Alfred stumbling and falling. Coughing and gasping for air, his chest stung in the spots struck. “What the fuck.”

Ivan lifted himself out of the chair, never tearing a scared expression away from Alfred. Legs tucked close and defensive, Ivan wrung his hands anxiously. It was obvious now he was a very stressed out spider thing. “Where's my room?” he demanded coldly. Alfred pointed to the only open door. Skittering inside, the door was slammed shut.

Once again alone, Alfred was left sitting on the floor in vague pain. Well, _that_ first impression could have gone better.


	3. Chapter 3

Things did not improve by the next day. Alfred woke to silence in his movie poster covered room. He ate a solitary breakfast. He fed the ant farm and checked on Boris the tarantula in his newly set up tank. Much like his owner, Boris was hiding in a corner of the tank with his little legs tucked in. Sighing, Alfred put a white Styrofoam cup in the tank. Maybe the fuzzy tarantula would calm down if he had somewhere to hide and rest.

Alfred knew this wouldn't be confirmed for a while though. Most large bugs took up to two weeks to adjust to changes in living arrangements. The ants took days to get over switching from lettuce to carrot peels for food. When it was time to leave for work, Alfred stood before Ivan's door.

“Ivan?” he called out. There was no response. “I'm sorry we didn't start out with the best impressions. You surprised me. But, you need to eat and stuff. I grilled you a steak. It's in the microwave... and I left you some word jumbles. I know you like doing those. I took care of Boris for you.”

The silence was deafening. Alfred hated living like this. “So. I'm going to work for a while. I dug out the scrabble board game if you wanted to play.”

When it was clear there would be no response, Alfred gave up and headed out. The Saturday shift at Burger Town went faster than usual. Alfred was distracted, pouring over all the social bug and people knowledge in his head. What could he possibly do to put his skittish and very alien roommate at ease?

Staring at six patties as they sizzled on the blackened grill, Alfred was tapped on the shoulder. “What?” he blurted out.

“Onion rings, hurry up” the window guy reminded him sharply.

“Yeah yeah.” Alfred muttered, flipping the patties quickly before walking to the frying pit. After a dozen customers came and went, all the employees relaxed and allowed themselves to breathe. With such high turnover rates, it was not a surprise that Alfred did not recognize the latest cashier girl. Alfred no longer socialized with anyone at work unless they had been there at least two months. It was honestly more for his own protection than theirs.

“What is up with you today?” Joseph the window bitch asked, sounding as entitled as ever.

“I got a new roommate but he won't leave his room.” Alfred said truthfully. There was no harm in sharing since the guy would probably not remember this conversation.

“Just like hikikomori!” the cute cashier chimed in, inviting herself to the conversation.

“Hikiki what?” Alfred asked, stumbling over the foreign word.

“Hikikomori. It's a Japanese health crisis. Guys become scared of socializing and hide in their rooms for years.” The teen explained.

“He probably pissed the guy off.” Joseph noted ever so eloquently.

“Maybe.” Alfred replied distantly.

It was a relief to go home and shower. It was during the daily cleansing that Alfred noticed subtle changes in the house. There was the finest of short white hairs collecting around the tub drain. They were without a doubt Ivan's. He was shedding everywhere, if the chair he sat on once was evidence enough to go by. Yet another sign of stress in animals of many kinds, though the impossible hybrid might be moulting just like spiders do.

After drying and dressing, the sunny blonde investigated his place more. The steak was gone, the plate washed and put away. Loose bits of garbage were picked up and the couch cushions were shifted ever so slightly. All signs Ivan was very much alive in his room, just incredibly quiet. The word jumbles were completely done, left where Alfred had initially placed them this morning.

Alfred continued to live with a ghost of a roommate for a week, never hearing or seeing Ivan directly. All the while Boris the tarantula was beginning to venture out from his Styrofoam cup shelter and drink water again. He even crawled onto the large branch in the tank and looked out sometimes.

Ivan was not far behind his pet in progress, not if Alfred had a choice about it. It was the next Sunday, Alfred's one of three days off. This Sunday was something different, because it was a trap. After cooking up a vegetarian stir fry that stunk up the whole house with tasty aromas, Alfred faked having a nap on the couch and waited.

After twenty long minutes, his target emerged from the dark bedroom. The lightest tapping of spider feet on tile, a dry hinge squeak. Peeking one eye open, Alfred witnessed a ragged looking Ivan ravage a box of Twinkies in the kitchen. A high sugar diet, just as Alfred expected of any bug based life form.

Seeking the tasty smell of dinner, Ivan spotted the only plate of stir fry on the coffee table. He approached without hesitation, believing Alfred to be asleep. Eating the stir fry with messy contentment, Ivan took a TV remote and rested his spider body on the floor. Short of laying down, it was clear the couch was not designed with quadrupeds in mind. Watching the TV on low volume, a faint smile graced his features. It was decidedly... pretty.

Alfred made his move, prey in sight. He feigned a small yawn and stretch, as if just waking. Ivan reacted like it was a fire, getting up immediately. “Don't mind me. Just woke up.” Alfred lied, taking heavy blinks.

Ivan was a nervous wreck, not yet retreating. “I didn't mean to wake you.” he replied with a flat tone.

“It's fine. You can watch TV.” Alfred said, keeping his speaking voice down a few notches from regular volume. Didn't want to spook the guy any worse than he already was.

“Oh... okay.” Ivan sat after a brief connection of eye sight. He ate, but with a tense wary posture. They watched a murder drama show to the end without exchange a single words. Alfred wanted to communicate badly, starved for companionship, but didn't.

“I don't do well with people. It's been a few years since I lived with anyone.” Ivan admitted, no longer whispering and hushed.

“I didn't notice.” Alfred answered sarcastically with a playful smirk.

Ivan looked ready to bolt, but Alfred had planned for it. “I have scrabble. I'm super good at it.” He boasted falsely, drawing on Ivan's pride. Alfred was actually terrible at scrabble, but knew Ivan would rock it. His ego simply wouldn't allow being beaten by a linguistic idiot.

“I doubt you could ever beat me.” Ivan said, so smug as his shyness vanished.

The ploy was working well, so Alfred pressed it more. “I know I'd win, 'cause I'm a gen-i-ous.” he taunted, jamming as many contraction words and bad grammar in as possible. All bait to keep his easily scared friend out in the open.

“I will crush you in scrabble.” Ivan vowed, his flat faces giving into a cocky grin. Crush Alfred he did, with double the score. The game was over when Ivan placed 'immunizations' over triple word and double word score spaces

With the game concluded, Ivan glanced at the time. He had been out of his room for three hours. It was a landmark achievement for Alfred, having taken days of scheming and planning. “I had fun.”

“I did too.” Alfred agreed.

Ivan quickly vanished from whence he came, only to poke his head out a moment. “Maybe we can do something else later this week.” He suggested coyly, “Maybe something I won't completely destroy you in.” With that remark, he was gone again.

Alfred wore a malicious smile in victory, tenting his fingers. Ivan _would_ leave his room again, hellfire or high water. Only living in the dry heart of Texas could define the meaning of 'hellfire'. It was two days later and the house was blazing box.

Boris the tarantula and the ants didn't notice, but Alfred could feel it. Even as a native to the region, he knew purposely wrecking your own air conditioner was suicide at the height of summer. Yet he did it anyway. If Ivan wasn't going to leave his room, Alfred was going to sweat him out. It worked after only ten hours of summer time torture.

Ivan, reduced to a single red T-shirt spotted with sweat, stumbled out of his room. Alfred opened the back door, currently a screen. “Hey, I got the pool ready since the AC is out.”

“You have a pool?” Ivan asked incredulously.

“Of sorts.” Alfred said, gloating. It was a plastic kiddie pool, but by god it was a pool.

Ivan came over hopeful, then not so much. “Two shitty plastic pools?”

“Well, I suppose you could bake to death inside while I splash in luxury.” Alfred teased, pouring a cup full of pool water over his head.

Ivan seemed torn between cursing Alfred and caving into his teasing. Finally, he gave in and neared the door. Wincing at the sunlight it was clear he was not a creature of the day. His complexion was almost ghostly in it's whiteness. “I probably shouldn't go out. I'll burn.” he protested a little, putting off his fate of leaving the house.

“I have sunblock.” Alfred offered.

“Fine I'll come outside.” Ivan grumbled, looked a little rosy from the crushing heat. He stood at the door, then put a single spider foot outside. It was a hesitant step, like he might burst into flames from leaving shelter. Soon before the remaining plastic kiddie pool, the hybrid looked doubtful.

“What are you, chicken?”

“I'm not a chicken!” Ivan huffed, plopping himself in the mostly full pool. He groaned at the heat relief, dumping cups of water over himself. Wet ashen blonde locks stuck to his face, sluicing around his big nose. Parting his soaking bangs, he looked Alfred. “I guess this was a good idea.”

“Need help with the sunblock?” Alfred offered, lounging in his own pool with an ice cold beer.

Ivan narrowed his eyes at Alfred in great suspicion. “Did you... engineer all this? Trapping me without cold air?”

“Why would I cook myself to death at the height of summer Ivy? That's crazy talk.” Alfred lied in a panic, already found out.

Ivan seemed thrown for a loop by the playful nickname, falling for the badly crafted falsehood. “Ah... I suppose. You wouldn't inconvenience yourself in the process of tricking me.”

“Why would I trick you? We're supposed to be friends.”

Blushing, Ivan seemed unable to stand all these errant affections. “I haven't had friends in a while. A few... years.” He looked to the dry grassland landscape around them for miles. Anything but looking at Alfred. “I suppose you can get my back. It's the one part I can't reach well.”

So maybe Alfred was being a little flirty. He was just very horny, and bored, and maybe Ivan was fun when he wasn't hiding. Maybe Alfred was itching to learn more about his unusual roommate, his inner entomologist gnawing on his brain. Even just to touch and _see_. As Ivan peeled off his wet shirt, Alfred's inner scientist was dancing with joy. He was going to rub sunscreen on a six foot tall spider!

Every muscle and curve was noted as Alfred ran his hands over them. What a lean back the guy had, slowly transitioning to chitinous 'scales' that became full exoskeleton towards the bottom. Flexible but tough, how interesting was that?

“You can probably stop now.” Ivan mumbled, looking more flummoxed by the second.

“Do you have more endoskeleton or exoskeleton?” Alfred blurted out loud, giving a lower chitin back 'plate' a poke. It was slightly flexible with invisible grooves and thick sections. So very neat!

“I have both almost completely... You really like spiders, don't you.” Ivan explained, not handling any of this well.

“Can I touch your spinnerets? Like just a second.” Alfred asked, half in the tiny pool with the squirming man-spider.

“I... um. Just a second? But then you have to give me space.”

Alfred gave a fun squeeze of a single spinneret, a hard digit that worked in concert with five others. It was all arranged in a hexagonal opening at the back of Ivan's abdomen, each spinneret the size of a human thumb. The six segments could work in tandem to create ropes of web, or pair down to create multiple thinner strings. When Alfred tried to pull his hand away, a few lines of web came taut with it.

“Omigosh, I'm getting tangled! This is so fucking cool!” he squealed, clapping hands together. They instant stuck together.

“Ah! Don't just pull on my webs like that. Hold still and... There.” Ivan cursed, flexible as he reached around. He tore the web like it was toilet paper with his hands, wrapping the loose stub around Alfred's wrists.

Alfred got out the pool, still bound. “That was awesome! So... how about freeing my hands.”

“Nope. You won't learn anything.” Ivan teased, lathering the rest of his pasty skin in sunblock.

“But why?” the golden blonde whined, returning to his pool to pout in lukewarm water.

“You're getting overexcited. And I'm not a petting zoo.”

At this cheeky yet sarcastic comment, Ivan's true online behaviour seemed to shine through. The person Alfred was actually friends with was now present, not that socially terrified weenie from before. It was only a matter of time before Ivan was socially genuine everyday.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been an agonizing two weeks of luring Ivan out of his room with little things to do. The easily scattered ash blonde was finally staying out at least a half and hour at a time with no prompting now. More importantly, Alfred was allowed in Ivan's room for a few minutes at a time. Granted, the entire room was covered in snaring webs. Ivan only left the dresser and laptop alone and they were pretty much glued in place now.

This evening Alfred and Ivan were cleaning up dinner dishes together. Ivan washed so he would not have to move much. His bulky presence took up half the tiny laminate kitchen area. As Alfred put dried dishes away, they conversed lightly.

“Boris looks happy in his tank now.” Ivan noted, done with the last plate.

“Yeah. I think he likes the cup house.” Alfred agreed, looking at Boris's sizable tank. Right now the tarantula was relaxing on a rock, legs sprawled out.

The door bell rang. Ivan froze, but didn't flee yet. That was some increment of improvement. Alfred draped his dish towel over one shoulder and investigated. “It's probably just the mail man.”

The impatient knocking ended as Alfred opened the door. It was his beloved half brother Matthew, looking absolute baked out of his mind. “Alfie, I've been out here forever!” He greeted, eyes pinked with unnatural state.

“You look fucked.” Alfred greeted dryly, not at all pleased with his sibling's condition. Matthew was kind of an ass hole when he was this high.

“I _feel_ fucked. I just came from a CCR cover band show, and...” As Matthew went on, Alfred tune most of what he said out. CCR sucked shit and Alfred was willing to fight to defend that opinion. In his unclear state, the half brother breezed past a fear locked Ivan. He didn't even see Ivan, which was crazy, because hey, a six foot tall spider.

“... so I need the guest bedroom. Ya know, since Rurik left.”

“No, that Ivan's...” Alfred sounded out, but it was too late. Matthew opened the door and walked into a wall of webs just beyond. Trapped in walking position, he wiggled fruitlessly.

“What the hell!” Matthew squeaked in surprise, struggling valiantly. It only tangled him worse.

“Stop it. You'll only get stuck more!”

“It's like cheese strings in here. I'm gonna eat my way out.”

“No, that's so gross.”

“It tastes like ass.”

“Don't eat the spider webs. Webs come from spider butts. Back me up on this Ivan.” Alfred said, looking back. Ivan was frozen in terror, scuttled into a little ball by the sink. Well, 'little' was relative. “Hey big guy, Ivy. Breathe. You know how to breathe right?” Alfred cooed, ruffling that shaggy hair.

“He's not freaking out about me.” Ivan near whispered.

“He's my stoner brother. He's numb to most of reality.”

Ivan calmed slightly, approaching. Extending a long spider leg, he poked Matthew in the back. “That tickles!” Matthew giggled.

“Mattie, why are you here?” Alfred asked the back of his now still sibling

“Well, I went to to the CCR cover concert with Marten, Lucas, and Matthias. We drank a bit. Then Marten shared his blunts. And we were arguing about farmers. And then Lucas and Matthias started making out and... Do you have cheese puffs? I need a whole bag. You can feed them to me.” Matthew rambled, so completely out of his head.

“Dude... _Focus_ for one minute.” Alfred grumbled, rubbing his temples in exasperation.

“... right. And. Uh. They started doing the sex so Marten dropped me off here then left to steal scented candles from Walmart.” Matthew finished his epic tale, still as stuck as ever.

Stoners truly were the worst. Alfred pushed his glasses up and paced a little. “Do you need to piss or anything?”

“No.”

“Cool. I'm leaving you there until you clear up.”

“That's cool. I'm pretty comfortable.” The easy going Matthew replied.

Simply leaving his brother to clean up with time, Alfred started pulling out old quilts. No longer scared of the largely useless man stuck in webs, Ivan followed. “I'm getting the couch ready for you Ivy. Mattie's going to take a few hours to be less... stupid.” Alfred explained with a rolling gesture of a free hand.

“That's not a good idea.” Ivan commented.

“Why?”

“I can barely sit on it. Sleeping on it would wreck my back.”

“Well...” Alfred dumped the blankets on the floor in frustration. “I don't know what to do then. This place is tiny and Captain Leaf over there is completely blocking your bedroom.”

“My bad, new roommate!” Mattie called out, still super duper stuck and unable to see the room.

Ivan hid shyly behind his faded ratty scarf, speaking softly. “I could make a new bed. Maybe in your room, since you steal the AC every single night.”

Alfred's crazy bid to trick Ivan into a pool without a shirt had been at a large cost. Apparently beating the life out of the AC with a crow bar broke it forever. Now they were reduced to a terrible mobile version that could barely cool a single room. “I bought it with my money. I'm allowed to sleep well at night.” Alfred replied.

“And I have to bake to death?” Ivan argued, “I can barely sweat for heat relief. I need it more than you do.”

“Fine! Be stubborn! But I don't know how the hell you're going to fit anything in there.” Alfred shot right back, opening the door. Alfred's bedroom was tiny, with a queen sized bed jammed in a corner. A tall skinny dresser was barely accessible, pinned to the opposite wall by the bed.

“There's lots of room. Look at how tall the ceiling is.”

Alfred gave Ivan a weird look. “You're not making any sense.”

Ivan rolled his amethyst eyes, so sardonic. “Let me build something for forty minutes. If you don't like it, I'll take it down.”

“Fine. Be weird. Forty minutes bud.” Alfred grumbled, sitting on the couch and starting up a documentary about millipedes. A riveting forty two minutes of learning later, Alfred decided to check in on whatever the hell Ivan was doing.

“Ivan did you know that Pneumodesmus newmani, basically the first millipede ever, was the first creature designed for land? It had air sporacles and... Woah!” Alfred gasped mid-chatter as he looked into the room. There was a beefy looking web canopy at standing height above his bed. Ivan whistled as he worked, hanging off the web upside down by five legs as he weaved thinner strands between lines as thick as a human finger.

“Watch where you touch. It's still super sticky.” Ivan warned. Not looking up or rather, down, from his work, he was clearly skilled at what he was doing.

“This is... so cool! Omigosh! Look at the patterns! It has the triangular bits like funnel web spiders and it's so big. Do you see how big it is!?” Alfred figuratively exploded with inquisitive joy.

“It's... It's nothing. I do it all the time.” Ivan dismissed, blushing all the while.

“But it's the coolest! And –” Ivan pulled him close while upside down. Binding Alfred's hands together, his ever talkative mouth was also silenced.

“You can't seem to keep your hands to yourself or be quiet, so I assisted you in both tasks.” Ivan spoke quietly, unable to take positive commentary. Returning to the construction of a literal loft space, Ivan's work was watched closely. He wove web in triangle patterns, one of the strongest engineering shapes.

After a time, Alfred poked Ivan in his fuzzy spider behind. The man-spider squeaked in surprise, lost to his work before. “Yes?”

The sunny blonde pointed to his alarm clock, then the webbing binding his mouth shut.

“Oh, right. You need to go to bed for work.” Ivan clued in, walking over while upside down. Ripping the webbing off, it stung as it took hair with it.

“Fuck! Every time!” Alfred hissed, skin red and angry around his mouth and hands.

“I'll idiot proof the web so you can climb up without getting stuck tomorrow.” Ivan offered apologetically.

“I'm not an idiot!”

“You got stuck four times this week.”

“I was curious. Now my arms are pretty much hairless. Not a loss in my book.”

“You're... a silly man. Good night Alfred.” Ivan chuckled, climbing into his loft of sorts. Alfred clicked on the ac, then turned off the lights. Only a dim American flag night light was left illuminating the space, and it was still quite dark.

Alfred ducked slightly as he slipped under thin summer covers. Ivan move a little, getting comfortable in his totally awesome hammock. The urge to reach up and grab one of the spidery legs for study through organic mesh was powerful. Alfred contained the urge this time. This felt like a surreal sleepover, something a twelve year him would lose his mind over. Not that Alfred wasn't, the blonde was just holding it in poorly.

“Hey Ivy?”

“I'm trying to sleep.”

“If John Hammond from Jurassic Park was named John Hammock, would the movie change?”

There was a stretch of silence then a soft sound of shifting weight. “Yes. He would copyright hammocks and be eight times richer. So, his dinosaur park would have better security and locks.”

“So the movie never happens?”

“It would probably be a BBC documentary then.”

Alfred took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand. “But... why is a guy that makes hammocks resurrecting dinosaurs in the first place?”

“Maybe dinosaur leather makes better hammocks... Goodnight Alfred.”

“Okay.” Alfred mumbled, laying in the dark a moment before quietly adding. “I think your hammocks are better though.”

A chuckle was heard from above, both of then soon peacefully asleep in the low hum of the air conditioner. Alfred woke the next morning to a most curious sight. It was Ivan soundly asleep, curled up serenely. Rising sunlight glittered off his hair. Spidery legs and abdomen were tucked in, human upper body hugging a pillow while turned inward to complete the foetal 'ball' of sorts.

It was unbearably cute by bug standards, like level 100 cute. Alfred reached up to touch, itching to feel how soft his resident spider really was. His hand encountered thinner web instead, translucent in the morning light. He tried to move it, but the hand was already stuck. Damn it, not again.

The vibrations and movement in the web slowly stirred Ivan to wakefulness. A sleepy morning smile graced his face. “You stuck again?”

“Shut up.”

“If I was a real spider, I could survive off trapped entomologists.”

“Just free me already. I need to get ready for work stuff.”

“If you insist.” Ivan purred. He threaded fingers through the gaps in webbing, effectively cupping Alfred's hand. With a single hooded glance at his trapped companion, Ivan closed his eyes and licked the palm with his soft warm tongue from the other side. Alfred blushed scarlet at the seemingly intimate measure, not sure what to do with himself.

The webbing dissolved from the faintly prickling saliva. It was probably more acidic than usual. Placing a single sweet kiss in the palm of the freed hand, Ivan finally released it. “All free now.” he informed, voice velvet smooth. The sultry tone used was unmistakable, one of primal lust. Whether it was intentional or otherwise, Ivan was flirting with him.

Alfred had no idea how to deal. “T-thanks big guy.” he stammered, sidling out of bed nervously. “Could you free up Mathew while I shower? I can talk to him after if he's mean.”

“I can.” Ivan replied sweetly, looking ready to pounce on Alfred and drag him up into the web loft. Those purple eyes were enigmatic and dark as they tracked his motion. The possibility of being sex trapped by a giant man-spider was potentially dangerous... and kinda hot. No. No, it was not hot. Alfred was just horny and lonely and he needed a sensible normal shower.

In the shower, racy thoughts flitted through Alfred's mind as he washed. His southern region was more than expressive about it's opinion on the Ivan situation. Despite knowing spider sex could end in the smaller male getting his head bit off, apparently his cock was still at full support over the idea. “I'm only going to let you win today.” he whispered in disappointment at his own body. Stifling a groan with a hand, he started pumping his aching cock.

Twenty minutes later, Alfred emerged clean and cheerful for another day. Matthew looked dazed and confused. He stared at Ivan as the hybrid make bacon and eggs for everyone. “What did I take at the concert?” Matthew mumbled, clinging to Alfred's arm the second he was near.

“The spider making us breakfast is real.” Alfred promised him, with great amusement.

“Is the spider going to kill me?”

“No. Ivan's a nice guy. He's renting out the room you walked into.”

Matthew's voice shook as he spoke, for he was an even worse liar than Alfred. “O-oh that's cool. What do you do mister spider?”

“I'm a professional day trader. I mostly coast off dividends and broader index stocks now, but I used to play with marginals. And my name is Ivan Braginsky.”

Matthew looked ready to have a stroke, but powered through the conversation as politely as he could without breathing enough. “Oh. Sounds fancy. How'd you meet my brother?”

“Internet.” It seemed Ivan was done with social interaction already, reducing anything to one word responses while avoiding eye contact. At least he wasn't running away, which was progress.

Later, after a filling meal, Alfred drove his brother home. It was a quick drive, a few minutes from the local gas station. “So. You have a spider for a roommate.” Matthew commented, in possible shock as he stared out the window at endless dusty plains.

“Yeah. Had him just over a month now.” Alfred replied. There was no more conversation after this. Just like that, Ivan's tiny social world had grown one more person. In turn, Alfred's life had become a hell of a lot more complicated.


	5. Chapter 5

Ivan's romantic advances had been most aggressive this last month. The way he kept looking at Alfred, it was somehow worse than how he looked at grilling steaks. Ivan kept being so insistent on _helping_ Alfred with things, which was really lots of hugs and suggestive snuggles. They honestly made chores three times longer.

The whole situation had Alfred in a bit of a bind. It was perplexing, terrifying, and on some level, intriguing. There lay the problem. Ivan was arguably more spider than man some days. Spider sex was not safe business, it was among the more fatal of the animal world. Heads got bit off, arms maimed, and genitals dismembered. Most importantly, almost every species of spider ever was venomous as holy hell for their size.

Alfred didn't even want to imagine how venomous Ivan was, if that proved to be the case. Honestly, this unpredictable romantic attraction was probably due to how small Ivan's social circle was. From the stories Ivan occasional leaked fragments of, his entire life seemed to grind to a halt nine years ago. Before that he was a stock broker with a glamorous house in Washington. He had even been engaged to some Chinese woman.

Then something devastating happened. He lost everything, instantly reduced to a hermit. Alfred suspected it was the whole spider business. But men didn't just turn into spiders. Was he infected with his spider state? Was it a curse? Was magic real in the first place?

This didn't matter. Alfred was probably the first and only thing to show interest in the troubled man for nearly a decade. So it was natural Ivan wanted to jump his bones... and maybe eat a few for dinner. It was probably the only reason. Alfred was jaunted from his thoughts by a generous squeeze of his ass.

Alfred yelped and blushed, while Ivan looked so cocky. “You got lost in something other than my eyes.” He flirted shamelessly, pulling Alfred into his arms.

Hopelessly weak against his captor, Alfred stammered “You know what Ivy? I think we should do something different.”

“I do too. I was thinking I could bring you up to my little bed. I want to show you a fun time.” Ivan said it with such ease, but conviction for the task ran beneath the words. Alfred knew if he went in that bedroom he was done for. He wasn't ready damn it! He needed more time to think about stuff!

“Let's go to the grocery store!” Alfred suggested suddenly, holding onto his tightened belt for dear life. Ivan had been trying to get his pants off for two days now.

That killed the mood in a hot second. Ivan let him go, scared for his life. “I c-can't. I won't. People will see me. They'll judge me. I c-c-can't!”

“You will, you know why?”

“Why?” Ivan asked, voice tiny and high in terror.

“Because they won't be looking at you. They'll be looking at me.” Alfred claimed confidently.

“How? I'm a giant spider monster.”

“No, I'll be a giant spider monster. You'll just be the guy with a better costume than me.” Ivan raised a brow, face dubious, but said nothing. “Just you see Ivy. I'm going to get changed, and I guarantee I'll be more noticeable.”

Ivan tried to follow them into their shared bedroom of over a month, but his efforts were cut off. Alfred slammed the door and locked it. “I only want to help.” Ivan keened, the door creaking as he leaned on it.

“I know you're horny, but you cannot break that door unless you replace it.”

“Okay.” Ivan chirped cheerfully, a heavy slam following after.

“NO BREAKING THE DOOR!” Alfred bellowed, half undressed.

There was a sigh from the other side, with no more ruckus after. “You're no fun.”

Finally left alone, Alfred pulled his Halloween costume out of the closet. He had made the thing himself for last year, and even hosted a party. Unfortunately, only Matthew and a few stoner friends showed up. After much awkward tugging and such, the large costume was on.

Alfred stepped out with flourish, as Ivan gawked from the kitchen. “That is the ugliest spider costume I have ever seen.”

“Nope! You can tell it's a spider, so therefore, it's not the worst costume ever.” Alfred corrected with a grin. He gave a twirl, showing off his handiwork. It was a fuzzy black ball of a costume, with roughly cut holes for arms and such. Below the arms was two sets of fake legs that hung off the wrists to move with the arms. “Oh I forgot the hat!” 

Top hat with eight googly eyes adorning his head, Alfred grabbed his wallet. “Ready to go big guy?”

“No, no, no. No. I'm not going to go.” The ash blonde simply wouldn't budge.

“I will become even more embarrassing until we leave. I mean it. I have an uncle Sam pimp costume and I am not afraid to use it.” Alfred threatened.

“You wouldn't.” Ivan scoffed, but he still looked gravely concerned.

“I will. Uncle spider Sam wants you!”

“Fine! Fine! I'll go, just... please don't make an uncle Sam spider. I have _some_ pride left.” Ivan finally gave in, already miserable.

Fitting Ivan in the car was akin to a puzzle with too many pieces. In the end, Ivan was 80% in the back seat, the rest of him curiously looked out the front. Propping up on his elbows on the middle console, he leaned against Alfred's shoulder lightly. 

“We're not going to Houston are we?” Ivan asked, listening to low volume radio.

“Not unless you want to eat somewhere fancy.”

“Not if you look like a garbage bag spider.” Ivan teased, though the social anxiety was strong below his playfulness.

“People go to the grocery store in pyjamas Ivy. We'll be fine.” Alfred said flippantly. Due to it being midday, the parking lot only had ten cars in it. This was promising. Less people to make Ivan run, or do that cute yet sad ball of legs bit. With the car still and parked, Alfred looked over his shoulder. “Now we're going to leave the car, okay?”

“I'm not ready!” Ivan whispered, barely audible.

“You can pick any sugar cereal you want if we do this.”

Ivan weighed the options of sugar cereal versus staying in the car. The lure of marshmallows in breakfast was just enough to get him motivated. “Any _two_ sugar cereals I want.” he demanded.

“And you can hold my hand as much as you want the rest of the day.” Alfred added further motivation. Ivan really did need to expand his known world as much as possible. Living in a room for years was probably not good for anyone.

At this tempting reward, Ivan was out of the car in no time. It was clear the hand holding was as much a life line as it was an excuse to molest Alfred's arm. The first hurdle of the trip was an encounter with three blonde women carrying food out of the store. They ghosted over Ivan, magnetized to Alfred's truly horrible costume. They whispered likely bitchy and hurtful things as they passed.

“See big guy? My costume is so bad, you look good in comparison. _Science_.”

Having seen proof in action, Ivan finally approached the grocery store in lurching steps. “I... can do this.”

It was the first positive thing the eternal pessimist had said in weeks about going out. Impulsively, Alfred gave his mid section a hug, then towed the reluctant man-spider. Ivan blushed from the contact, but didn't try to sexually attack Alfred quite yet.

They made it into the produce section, a rainbow of edible delights arranged to entice. As Alfred picked up a head of lettuce and other various things, Ivan was already starting to freak out. “Ivan, Ivan, look at me.” the confident human ordered, gripping the face so it couldn't look away.

“I'm scared. A man saw me.” Ivan stuttered, already locking up again.

“Look at my face. I'm calm. You're calm. Everyone's calm.”

“I like your face, and your body. I really want to see your co –” Ivan's R-rated love confession was cut off sharply. He had already relaxed again, though now he was in his unstoppable romantic mode.

“That's not grocery store talk.” Alfred interrupted, moving in the the next section. In the meat aisles, Ivan looked positively in love.

“Can't we just take all these steaks home. They look so lonely, and delicious.”

“No! We can't afford to eat nothing but meat. Just pick... I don't know, four or something.”

Of course, Ivan put the four biggest steaks in the cart. That was going to be expensive. It almost felt like Ivan and Alfred were a couple shopping together, occasionally bickering over nothing. A small thrill ran up his spine at the idea of it. Having someone to do domestic things with was a luxury Alfred never been afforded, even a child. Father would always be away at his pilot's job, while a slightly older Matthew was busy being 'cool'. It was nice not being alone after all. Everything was going just peachy until they hit the breakfast aisle.

“We are getting the oatmeal.” Alfred growled, clutching the box.

“No we aren't. It's literally two dollars more for marshmallows.” Ivan challenged.

“They are _dinosaur eggs_ , and they will hatch when I pour hot water on top.”

“Ever since the Jurassic park remake, you have been so unreasonable!”

With a stomp, Alfred put the damn box of oatmeal in the cart. “If you get the four biggest steaks in the store, I get the dinosaur stuff.”

“That's not fair to compare that. I need that meat to live! You're just plain getting ripped off!” The Russian-American wouldn't cease in his selective frugality, despite being the guy that lived off nothing but sugar cereal and steak.

A woman strolling to the condiments and chips aisle paused and stared. “What are you looking at? We're two fuckin' spider enthusiasts arguing! Piss off!” Alfred yelled, thoroughly done with this shopping adventure.

The nosy woman barely looked at Ivan, pushing her cart away in a huff. Ivan paused his arguing, grabbing both Alfred's hands. The flat line of his face bend to a happy, almost blissful smile. “Everyone assumes I'm in a costume. You're so clever. You're so smart and wonderful to me... I love you Fedya.”

All Alfred's irritation dissolved at the doe eyed love unfolding in front of him. “I'm just... I like being nice to you, and you're... _cute_ and really nice...” The golden blonde rambled, unable to look away from those compelling violet eyes.

Ivan blushed, pulling his silly ragged scarf down. Stooping ever so slightly, he kissed Alfred. It was full blown adult affair that tingled and turned the grown man to jelly. It was honestly the best kiss Alfred had ever experienced in his whole life. It was electric pleasure and the dance of tongues, and Alfred knew he wanted twenty more.

After a few wobbling moments, Alfred steadied himself. “Holy fuck.” he whispered.

“I think we need to go home.” Ivan suggested flirtatiously, giving a both hands a squeeze.

“A-agreed.” Alfred stuttered, still a little out of it from the kiss. His mouth was slightly numb but he was so hard it was impossible to care.

Only through force of will did Alfred drive home safely. Once the car was parked and safely off, They were no better than animals. In minutes, Alfred was pinned to a wall in the house, kissed senseless. Ivan was shredding the poorly made costume off in an instinctual rush to fuck Alfred, but the man was too happy to care.

“What about the groceries?” Alfred asked, not really intending to get them at all. Ivan growled and kissed him more roughly, causing a lip to split and bleed on sharp canines. Getting hazier by the second, it was a good enough response. Nothing seemed to hurt anymore, but only feel better. The world spun as he was heaved over Ivan's shoulder, carried like a prized sack of potatoes.

Alfred giggled as he was dropped in Ivan's blanket lined web. Ivan loomed over him, a lusting hunger the only emotion available. “I feel fuzzy Ivy.” the now pinned man mumbled, bare and exposed before his captor.

Eyes dark and passionate, Ivan finally spoke again. “I'm going to do everything to you. I love you.”

Alfred mewled and kissed back, heart fluttering with blessed joy. “I... love you too big guy.”

At this admission, Alfred's body was ravaged with rough biting kisses and sexual acts. Feeling higher than a kite the entire time, the man could barely discern the transitions. From having his reddening cock sucked to being splayed wide while on his belly, the only thing Alfred could recall was pleasure and increasing numbness.

Ivan mounted Alfred in what seemed like no time at all, something large and unknown pushing into his relaxed and stretched rectum. Held in place by fluffy spider legs, his dripping erection was stroked by gentle human hands. A panting Ivan cried out nonsense, clamping down hard on Alfred's shoulder until it bled. He stayed there, suckling the wound, moaning all the while in ecstasy.

Barely conscious, the man beneath didn't register the violent progression of their love making. With a loud moan Alfred came, feeling something thick and warm filling his insides. With a loving whisper of “Ivy...”, Alfred passed out into orgasmic darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any brand or franchises mentioned in this, or any other fan-fiction I have written. I do not own Jurassic Park, Hetalia, or Twinkies. Nor do I make profit off their respective intellectual properties. I just really love dinosaurs and snack cakes.


	6. Chapter 6

Alfred woke up in a hospital room, feeling like absolute trash. The lights were too bright, glaring into his pupils when he looked out the window. Still the half second of registering outside confirmed the obvious. Judging from the vast grey city landscape spilling in all directions, He was in Houston, the capital of Texas.

The powerful scent of lemon cleaner burned Alfred's nose. Everything felt intense and painful, like jagged exposed nerves. Worst of all, he had to take the biggest shit of his life. Sucking in a breath, He move stiff arms to press the nurse assistance button on his bed. Pressing it twice very hard, he let his arms rest half draped over his chest. They were fully bandaged, with blots of dark red. After a few minutes, a male nurse walked in.

“Hey.” Alfred rasped to the figure in green scrubs.

“Hey yourself! It's nice to see you awake... Mr. Jones.” the nurse greeted, looking at papers on a clip board.

“Water.” the prone man panted, throat like sandpaper.

As the nurse made the electric bed shift to a more upright position, he fed Alfred water from a plastic cup. “I'm going to do some tests, okay?”

“Need... to shit.” Alfred objected weakly.

“Can you walk Mr. Jones?”

Alfred nodded, but it was a lie. He didn't know if he could, but he sure as hell wasn't going to crap in a bed pan. On shaking legs, he managed to limp walk with almost no assistance to the bathroom a few metres away. He gave a shaky thumbs up to the nurse, then closed the door. Sitting on the toilet, the skimpy paper hospital gown didn't even need to be moved much.

A man didn't know how blessed a bathroom was until he had to go this badly. Alfred felt like he had damn near dropped a bowling ball of weight from the concentrated efforts. Peeking a glance at the toilet, he suppressed a scream as he flushed it in a panic. It was a ludicrous amount of Ivan's presumed cum, speckled with black dots. _Moving_ black dots. Flushing the toilet three more times for good measure, he tried to calm his shaking composure.

The reflection in the bathroom mirror was even more upsetting. He was pale and gaunt, his entire upper body bandaged and littered with dried bloody splotches. A high whine of distress escaped him this time, drawing the nurse's attention.

“Do you require assistance Mr. Jones?” the male nurse offered from the other side of the door.

“What the fuck happened.” Alfred muttered, quivering from the efforts of standing. The nurse came in anyway, guiding him back to the bed. Sagging into the soft bed, he asked again. “What happened?”

“Can you tell me the date, Mr. Jones?” The nurse asked, picking up his clipboard once more.

“It's... Tuesday, August... I don't remember the number but it's single digit. It's 2018.” Alfred replied thickly, head throbbing like a frat party level hangover.

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“Um. I came home from the grocery store, and...” _had my ass pounded by a horny spider the size of a football player_ “... was attacked by an animal. I passed out before I got a good look at it.”

“Mmhmm.” the nurse replied simply, jotting down notes. “You've been unconscious for three days Mr. Jones.”

“Work is going to be so pissed.”

“Work is hardly a concern at this point. You just survived being severely poisoned.”

At this Alfred silenced. So Ivan was highly venomous, and partially parasitic. After all, stuff in your poop wasn't supposed to move. The big guy was not going to take this news well. Ivan was going to sulk for days, hiding in his room. He was probably going to cry or do something stupid. It really was best to lie to him.

“How did I get here?”

“A... Matthew Kirkland brought you into the emergency room, claiming you were attacked by animals.” The man replied, but there was something insincere in his tone. It was like he knew the wounds weren't from animals, but he was too uncaring to pursue the issue. Thank god for jaded medical personnel. “The hospital wants to keep you for observation two days, once the doctor sees you again.”

“Okay.” Alfred replied tiredly.

“In the future, You should limit your sexual adventures to something short of being mauled by a bear.” The nurse added in deadpan fashion.” The nurse added, smirking as he left.

Alfred blushed scarlet. Oh god. They knew he was a freak in the sheets now. He prayed the earth would swallow him up in this moment of burning shame. Alfred was not granted such a luxury. Did the other nurses know this was sex injuries? Oh god! A torturous two days later, a blushing Alfred was pushed out of the hospital in a wheel chair. It was a relief to get out of the building, away from all that judgement.

As a mostly sober Matthew pushed him along, one could smell the cloud of weed stench on him from earlier. “I'm sorry I couldn't come in earlier. I was at the grow site with Carlos and Marten.”

“It's fine.” Alfred dismissed quickly.

“Ivan said you were attacked by an animal. Did you get rabies?”

“No. I didn't get rabies.”

“Did you get tetanus?”

“Mattie, you can't get tetanus from animals. You get that from rusty metal.”

“Carlos said you could get tetanus from animals. He's pretty smart.” Matthew claimed confidently.

“Carlos is an idiot.” Alfred replied bitterly.

“I'm pretty sure you don't like Carlos, which makes that statement biased and untrue.”

Alfred said nothing more, stewing over how much he hated Carlos, one of the weed farmer guys. He was just so easily to hate, right down to his cocky cigar smoking grin. That fat rat bastard.

“I want to stay a few days with you. Make sure you don't bleed where you shouldn't.” Matthew went on.

“So there's places I should be bleeding instead?” Alfred joked. Matthew stopped pushing the wheel chair, contemplating this retort far too hard. He was barely clean enough for this visit it seemed. “Don't think about it too hard.” The younger brother added after. The drive home was blasted by Jethro Tull on full volume, with Alfred laying in the back seat due to exhaustion. It was nice of Mattie to clean up all the burrito wrappers off the floor.

Helping a stiff drug laced Alfred into his home, Matthew placed him in a soft chair. He took out a blunt from a pocket, but Alfred had sharper eyes than most. “Smoke it outside. No drugs in my house.”

“But Alfie, it's just pot.” the other whined.

“ _No goddamn drugs allowed in my house._ ”

“Fine, I'll be ten minutes.” Matthew conceded, stepping outside to do his business.

Ten minutes, just enough time to check on Ivan. Still held together with bandages and painkillers, Alfred was able to stand and function on his own. From previous hospital visits, he knew this luxury would only last an hour more at most. He intended to make the best of it.

“Ivy? I'm back.” he called out, entering his bedroom.

Ivan was curled up in his web hammock of a loft, face blotchy from tears. “You're not dead... You're not... I didn't kill you.” The hermit of a man-spider said, immensely upset still.

“Not gonna give me a hug?” Alfred replied playfully, lifting his bandaged arms slowly.

He was hit with a next level fuzzy spider hug, arms and legs all over the place. Pinned to the floor, he was peppered with tingly kisses. “I'm so sorry, I was really horny, and I lost control, and I... I didn't mean to hurt you.” Ivan confessed, his sea of tears starting to calm.

“Might have to lay off the kisses... You're really venomous...” Alfred rambled, already feeling woozy and slurring his sounds.

“Oh, I didn't know! You're... my first as a spider thing.” Ivan seemed content with nuzzling and cuddling, shedding all over the place in the process.

“Are you moulting already?” Alfred asked very slowly, now coasting on Advil and spider venom.

“Soon. I've been so well fed here. I think I gained a few pounds in muscle from walking around so much.... I love you.” Ivan went on, thoroughly marking Alfred with his dry spidery musk. It was like chamomile and damp dust. Alfred thought about how despite the sheer violence of it, the sex had been rather fun. It just needed to be a hell of a lot safer, and less poisonous. Okay, most of it needed to be altered. But getting laid was worth it, Alfred could totally do this!

“I love you too, you big silly spider.” the pinned man cooed, kissing cheeks rosy with joy.

The clearing of a throat was heard, the two looking up. It was Matthew, already back from his smoke break. He stood in the door frame, looking confused. Most people would be in his position, so Alfred didn't hold it against him. “You two seem... cozy.”

“He's not dead. Isn't that wonderful?” Ivan answered happily, not releasing Alfred at all. Feeling too dizzy to walk anyway, the golden blonde didn't mind.

“You have to be careful. He was attacked by that pack of animals real bad.” Mattie warned. Ivan had clearly fed the guy a story while he was baked out of his skull. The wheaten blonde crouched low, “Ivan saved you, you know. He called me when he found you all fucked up.”

“I'm sure he did.” Alfred went along with the story. It was easier to do and a million times less embarrassing. “If you have things you need to do it's okay to leave. I'll call you.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Matthew accused, faster than usual today. He stood and gave the duo a scrutinizing look over.

 _Yes_... “No bro, I'm just tired and stuff. I'd be boring to babysit.”

“Well, I'm staying the night anyway. I probably have to leave in the morning, but I want to make sure those crazy doctors don't have anything wrong. What if you randomly turn inside out or stuff?” Matthew insisted.

“I fixed up the extra bedroom.” Ivan pointed out, keen to be alone with Alfred.

“Oh good. I'm bushed, there was a ton of plant care done today.” It was just that easy to make Matthew leave the room. Alfred should have mentioned Ivan's old sleeping quarters sooner. Ivan was all about minimizing that he existed, having cleaned up all the webs not in Alfred's room. The paranoid ash blonde even bought an industrial amount of lint rollers to get rare web scraps off Alfred's clothes.

Carried like a delicate parcel, Alfred was placed in Ivan's web. Thin yet soft blankets were tucked around his barely healed body. The web hammock had become his regular hangout place for good reason. It was extremely comfortable. “Do you want food, my little Fedya?” Ivan doted on the freckled blonde in his fragile state, cuddling the holy hell out of him. For all his vanity and pride, Alfred adored being pampered. It was another joy rarely given to him even as a child.

An image of the perfect meal visualized in Alfred's head. A steak, thick and juicy, pink in spots even. This was more surprising than anything else. The burgers at work had grown to be so disgusting that Alfred was almost a vegetarian until now. “A... steak. A nice big steak. Medium instead of well done. No, medium rare, with all the sauces and blood still in the pan. And I want to smell it while you cook it.” Alfred requested, beginning to drool a little.

“I know just how to make it. You'll love it.” Ivan promised, a twinkle in his royal purple eyes. With that statement, he sashayed his fuzzy spider butt out of the room. Too hurt from his injuries to move, Alfred was content to lay still and just breathe.

A while later, the most lovely smell filled the house. _Meat_. Alfred was too sore to move, but avidly tracked Ivan when he returned with a plate. It had a slightly cooled steak, dripping with the fried juicy goodness from the pan. “Food.” Alfred groaned, more hungry than he could recall ever being.

“Nuh uh, you have to be a good Fedya and wait while I cut this up.” Ivan was such a tease. Finally the first delicious piece of meat was delivered. It was perfect tasty deliciousness, so soft and tender. Alfred chewed and savoured each bite with newfound appreciation. Fed like a baby bird by Ivan, Alfred was content to be loved and cared about. For the time being, it was all he needed.


	7. Chapter 7

Alfred did not get better, he became exponentially worse. A week after leaving the hospital, he was curled up on the floor beside the toilet. He was honestly unable to leave the strategic position, dizzy with a crushing headache. Puking black stuff since since two hours ago, it was great effort to move at all.

Ivan fit himself in the open door the best he could, his larger size making it a bit awkward. “Fedya... I can't get a hold of the hospital for you.” He reported with a frown.

“It's fine. Did you leave a message at least?” Alfred asked.

“No, there was a busy signal, then some elevator music.” As Ivan talked he delicately scooped Alfred's form off the floor. Wiping his face clean with a damp cloth, Ivan's nose crinkled.

“What's the matter? You shouldn't look upset.”

“You smell really bad. We need to take the bandages off and get you cleaned up.”

“Can't we wait until the hospital picks up?”

“The hospital has been a busy signal for days. I'm... I'm sure we'll do this properly.” Ivan's absolute lack of medical knowledge was shining through, but Alfred was desperate. He was unbearably itchy in his blood clotted bandages, and too weak to scratch.

“Fine, lets... let's do this outside with a hose. I am pretty gross.” Alfred conceded, too tired to argue. The normally blistering summer heat was welcome this day, chasing off any chills or shivers the sick man suffered. Ivan too warmed in the sun with his ashen grey limbs stretched out. Once less lethargic, he retrieved scissors no one would mistakenly use on food packages.

“Ready?” Ivan asked, his sheer nervousness obvious.

“Get it over with.” Alfred grunted, bracing himself for a hell of a lot of pain. He was not wrong to do so, being sensitive to mere touch.

Screwing his eyes shut, Alfred clenched his jaws and bore the unwrapping. If he had any control at all, it was at least over if he had to see this gross procedure. He already had to hear and smell it. It was sounding far too wet, and reeked of the one thing Alfred feared the most. Jaundice. It was a nasty condition he once developed as a child when an infected cut was left too long. It was a painful pus oozing experience he wished never to have again.

Everything hurt. His bones hurt, his joints hurt, being lightly washed with hose water hurt. “Is it... is it over.” Alfred whimpered, the two arms that held him up on the sandy ground shaking.

“Fedya... You have to see this.”

“No. I'm not looking, I don't want to see.” All the same, human curiosity be damned. Alfred peeked one eye open, then let out a shriek of terror. The water soaked ground around him was splattered with crimson to black blood. Long pieces of yellowing skin were hanging off him, nearly mush from decomposition. Places there used to be fat deposits were visually hollowing out, leaving saggy dying skin behind.

The worst spot was where Ivan had chomped down on Alfred's shoulder. A long tear was forming, strings of rotted flesh pulled taught across the blood stained gap. Beneath was a fresh new surface, pink and soft with an odd texture.

“What the fuck is happening!?” Alfred screeched.

“I don't know!” Ivan cried out, just as confused and scared.

“Kill it with the hose!”

“I don't want to hurt you, Fedya.”

“KILL IT!”

At the shrill command, Ivan blasted the rotten skin off Alfred's body with near maximum water pressure. The bloody bandages and dirt, the awful Jaundice infected strips... It was all flung several metres from the house in a cone shaped cascade of gore.

Turning off the water, Ivan called out “I don't think I can get more off with the hose. I don't really want to touch you like this.”

“That's fair.” Alfred looked down at his dripping wet corpse of a body. Almost all the dead stuff was washed away, leaving a strange bloodless suit of greying skin littered with large holes. Fresh skin lay beneath, weirdly smooth and flush with healthy blood flow. Only a few of the new vessels revealed had broken from the water pressure, and they were already scabbing up nicely.

“What is happening to me?” Alfred began crying in fear, almost too weak to hold his upper body up.

Ivan looked glum, remaining silent. He retrieved a long sleeve shirt, and pulled it over Alfred's disgusting upper body. Using the shirt as a non-stick layer for the damaged skin, Alfred was carefully wrapped in webbing. It was an improvised solution until they could get a hold of real sterilized bandages. The silken webs were dusted with baby powder and baking soda to keep horrendous smells at bay as they developed. It also stopped his strange white 'shirt' from sticking to damn near everything.

“That's the best we can do until we get you to a pharmacy or a doctor.” Ivan informed, looking morose as he finished up his work.

“Babe, don't... don't cry on me. What's the matter.”

Violet eyes watered with tears as they levelled with Alfred's blue. “I killed my first boyfriend in fifteen years with rough sex is the problem. You're dying and it's my damn fault.”

Alfred snorted derisively. “You didn't kill me. You're making it sound like you murdered me.”

“You are literally rotting and falling apart. You can't walk anymore. I've _killed_ you.”

Alfred struggled to construct a counter argument so tried to shift the topic. “You didn't know you were venomous. You didn't know. You never tried to kill me. It was just fate being a dick to you.”

“Fate is a dick.” Ivan sniffled, wiping his face with a forearm. Picking up a clean and medically dressed Alfred, the couple settled in the web hammock inside. “I think I should tell you my story before you die.”

Alfred rolled his eyes, but went along with it. “Okay. Listening.”

“Nine years ago, I was a regular guy. I had a fiancee named Chen, a house, a dog... We lived in a nice house in Washington DC. I was making at least seventy grand a year in the stock market.” Ivan began, more depressed than usual as he narrated. Alfred tucked himself in Ivan's arms as his listened, resting a head on one of those beefy shoulders.

“I got sick. I don't know how anymore. But... Chen saw, and she was a superstitious woman. It was an amusing quirk I would indulge. She saw me puking up black stuff, and my eyes changed colours, I lost weight. She took it as a sign from her ancestors that her marriage was doomed. She called off the wedding, broke all ties with me. Chen moved back to china, maybe. I'm not sure.”

Alfred made a noise of vague concern, giving his spider pal a weakened squeeze of a hug. Ivan closed his eyes, nuzzling the top of Alfred's head. He took a big breath. “So it was me and the dog in a crappy apartment. Sputnik was... a good dog. And I was very sick. I kept passing out for days, only waking to eat and feed the dog. I was starting to lose my mind, and... I ran out of food one day.”

 _This is not going to end well_ , Alfred thought privately.

“By then I was bleeding from scratching so much, and shedding skin, and... becoming what I am today, more or less. I was starving after losing... at least fifty pounds. Maybe more. I was kinda fat before. But I was all instinct, and I was so hungry. I...” Ivan paused, guilt written over his features in bold letters. “I ate Sputnik. I ate all the pets in the building I could get my hands on. By the time my humanity had recovered, I knew. I knew I could never have a normal life again. I isolated myself. I made online personas, I hid my real identity, I doctored myself into pictures, to give the impression I was fine to my family in Brooklyn. I made less than forty thousand a year to avoid the IRA. I was content to live alone until I died.”

“Until you met me?” Alfred prompted.

The barest hint of a smile, It was all Ivan need to answer with. “I used you as a doctor at first. You were so knowledgeable about spiders, and I couldn't go to a hospital if I was sick.”

Alfred blushed at the implications of him being so knowledgeable. “I just really like bugs. You make it sound like I'm a professor.”

Ivan giggled, more cheerful again. “I'm your love bug.”

“Oh my god, that is so cheesy.” Alfred groaned.

“Are you sure I can't kiss you?” Ivan asked mischievously.

“Maybe a few, but not until I pass out. I might die.” Alfred warned somewhat seriously.

“Okay.” After planting a chaste kiss on the cheek, Ivan resumed cuddling. The cheek tingled, then went entirely numb.

“Am I going to lose my mind and try to eat people?” Alfred yawned, ready for a nap.

“If you don't die from whatever I inflicted you with, yes.” Ivan answered truthfully.

“I want you to stop me, if I turn weird. I mean it.”

Ivan took a long mournful look at his companion. “I will.” He promised solemnly.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything was too hot and constricting. Feverishly, Alfred wriggled in the silken constraints he was trapped in. Day was night, night was day. What day was it anymore? It didn't matter. Alfred was hungry, and he didn't care about any other thing in the world. Having lost his glasses while struggling, everything was fuzzy edged shapes.

Hungry. So hungry. Alfred hissed and kicked futilely, not quite strong enough to rip his bonds.

“Fedya! Calm down!” A fuzzy grey and white shape said in the distance. The sentence had no meaning, a collection of alien sounds arranged in a line. Alfred hissed again, struggling harder. Hunt, kill, eat, _hunt_ , _Kill_ , _EAT_.

With a final surge of angry strength, Alfred tore free of his bonds. Unsure and uncaring of his own anatomy, he half dragged and crawled in a frantic bid to eat the white and grey thing. He took purchase of his blurry prey, biting down hard on a slender grey limb. It tasted dry and unpleasant, not meat at all. The shape fought back, kicking Alfred hard with two more limbs that were possibly legs.

Winded, Alfred let go and landed on his back. It was weirdly difficult to get up, taking a few more seconds than expected. His prey was far more swift, slamming the door behind it as it fled the room. “I'm sorry Alfred. I... I can't kill you. I can't. We're just going to see if you get better instead.”

More meaningless noise. Alfred growled and clawed at the simple wooden structure that blocked his meal. He scratched and cursed in threatening sounds until his hands bled, until his aching body grew tired. Hunt, kill, eat, _hunt_ , _Kill_ , _EAT_. Yet the starving beast could do none of these things. Alfred was simply too injured, too weakened.

Defeated and in largely self inflicted pain, the frustrated blonde curled up on the web and napped. Blurs, colours... Shapes, red blood, feathers, the screeching of a dying bird. Things flitted through the insane mind of the mutated man, as short lived as his thought process. Whether he did these things, or these things came to him was unknown.

The world came into focus slowly. Alfred was on the floor of his bedroom. Bedroom, the place where he slept. Bedroom, a room in a house generally reserved for one person or a couple. Meanings of the things around him streamed by, filling in his confused mind. Things slowly clicked into place, making structured sense again. Alfred was... Alfred. Feeling around, a cracked pair of glasses was discovered. Alfred put them on, able to discern details again.

Ivan. Ivan, where was Ivan! “Ivan! Ivan!” Alfred called out in a panic, staring at his hands.

They were darken with old blood, the nails sharp and slender as they curved slightly. They looked well used already, dull on a few points. The door to the living room and kitchen area was down right shredded with several fist sized holes. Large blood splotches and a lot of white feathers were not far away. A well gnawed chicken corpse was half kicked under the bed, nothing but a head, a few scraps of skin, and a single leg.

“Ivan I'm scared! Ivan!” Alfred cried out, trembling. He motioned to stand and walk, but almost fell over. He looked down to see what the problem with his legs was. The problem was he didn't have any. Heart ready to burst from fear, he dared a glance to the rest of his body.

His extremely lean torso was scaled loosely with caramel coloured chitin that increased in prevalence towards the bottom. Seeing slender spider legs in his peripheral vision, Alfred turned sharply to avoid looking at himself further.

In the process, his larger than expected body banged into the destroyed dresser. It died from the momentum alone, falling into the equally damaged bed. Even the the dry wall was a mess. The ominous words 'HUNT', 'KILL', and 'EAT' were carved into every imaginable surface with jagged wild lines, often in blood. In short, this was the most terrifying room of Alfred's life.

“Ivan! If this a joke, I'm not laughing!” Alfred called out. There was no response. There was no sound at all, not even the hum of electric appliances. Not knowing what to do, Alfred tried the door. It was boarded from the other side and missing a doorknob. The window was also barricaded from the outside. Peering through one of the door's ragged holes, it was completely dark on the other side. Only a few rays of the setting sun pierced the darkness. With Alfred's very human and terrible eyesight, these scraps of illumination were not enough.

After a while, It was too dark to see anything all. Alfred studied his new body with touch. His human upper body was technically part of a modified thorax in the middle. Eight long legs were attached to this central region. The abdomen was more streamlined and reasonably sized than Ivan's. Of course, everything about Ivan was big and hairy, right up to his strong broad shoulders.

In comparison, Alfred was lithe and springy. He hadn't been this thin since grade school, morally weak to chocolate and other junk food. Feeling around the destroyed room, Alfred tried walking again. If he didn't think about it too hard, it was seamless and naturally stable.

Finally, a white halo of artificial light glanced over the house. The sound of a large vehicle parking on gravel was heard, followed but the lights going out. The weak light of Alfred's solar garden lights revealed Ivan's haggard face as he held it like a torch. In the house, Ivan spoke to open air. “Hello Boris. Still happy in your tank?”

“Ivy! Ivy!” Alfred called out.

“F-fedya!” Ivan spoke with reverence, stepping closer slowly. “Say something in a sentence format. To prove this isn't a trick.”

Alfred paused in thought. “Ivan Braginsky is a weenie because he won't let me out to hug him.”

That was enough proof. Setting down the lamp, he started tearing off secured wooden planks. Meanwhile Alfred was battering at the door from the other side. The door creaked and gave it's last squeak of dry hinges, falling right out of the frame as the last board was removed. Ivan barely side stepped the falling object, quick to give a massive fuzzy spider hug.

They rolled on the floor a little, the hug was returned proper. It was alien yet so natural, to just wrap all eight legs and two arms around Ivan. It was strange affectionate symmetry of two bodies that shouldn't be. All the same, it felt wonderful.

“Ivy, I missed you. How many days has it been?” Alfred murmured between kisses. They no longer tasted bitter and numbing, instead very sweet.

“Forty since you went berserk. I thought you were lost forever.” Ivan replied, nuzzling Alfred and marking him with that lovely musk of dust and chamomile.

“Why is the power out? I can't see the city glow of Houston from far away anymore.”

“The power cut out two weeks after you left the hospital, right when you went crazy. It's a different world out there.” Ivan explained, sounding like the crazy one.

Alfred released his cuddles to stand. Feet tapped on tile as he explored the kitchen for more food with the garden light. “This place is cleaned out. You even ate the baked beans.”

“I couldn't drive for a while, so I improvised, but... There's a spider plague out there. It's destroyed Washington DC, well, pretty much all of the west coast and most of the north. The military has Houston under control, but only because they killed most of the people inside.” Ivan was still going on about his ridiculous story it seemed.

“Well as creative as that sounds, I'm going to work. I have to apologize for being fifty something days late and hand in my uniform. I'm _probably_ fired.” Alfred answered frankly, not in the mood for story time.

“Fedya, you don't get it. It's the apocalypse out there.” Ivan deadpanned, not impressed at all.

“I don't care if Satan himself is marching down the road in a hellfire parade. I'm leaving my workplace with a proper letter of resignation.” Alfred was not going to have a bad relationship with his former employer!

“Fine. I'm coming along to make sure you don't get eaten by spider monsters.” Ivan sighed, taking a shot gun off the wall and loading it.

“So dramatic.” Alfred teased as he grabbed one of his favourite shirts and pulled it on. It was baggy, almost two sizes larger. “Did I shrink?”

“A little. It's very cute.”

“I'm not cute, I'm handsome. Or I was.”

“Still cute.”

It turned out Ivan was driving a farmer's truck with cut up seats and the back of the cab missing. It was actually quite nice for the pair, since you only had to walk up the truck bed to get in. In true Mad Max style, a lazy rope cage stopped stuff from getting in or out the back. A variety of weapons was web glued to the inner sides of the truck bed. Even a battle axe made from construction materials was there.

“You went a bit overboard McGuyver.” Alfred said, jabbing Ivan playfully in the arm. The Russian-American ignored this and started up the vehicle.

“Grab a weapon, Alfred. It's going to get wild.” Ivan warned. With that, the journey began.


	9. Chapter 9

The drive was dark, not a single twinkle of light in any direction. “Why did you have to do this at night, Fedya? It's going to be even creepier than normal.” Ivan complained. As they neared Burger Town, they passed an abandoned gas station. Cars without owners were left sitting beside pumps. Dust from the dry grasslands coated everything in a dull shade of sand.

“If I don't do this now, I'll forget to do it later.” The smaller hybrid replied, scrutinizing everything they passed. The gas station scene was bothersome to Alfred's logic. It took a lot of time for dust to build up that much. Even lazy house and car owners ran air pressure over the outside sometimes. All the lights were off too.

Burger Town restaurant was a disaster zone upon arrival. Almost every window was broken, chewed bones piled the corners. Leaving the truck lights on, Ivan stood on the open back of the truck with the loaded shot gun. Alfred tried to leave the cab, but Ivan wouldn't let him. “Just wait.” Ivan warned, eyes sharp.

With predatory clicking and hisses, a small gang of horrors rushed the truck from the inky shadow of night. Misaligned shapes of humans, bloody rotting skin hanging off mutated forms. Uneven amounts of spider legs where there should be arms. Insect faces with bared fangs and massive black orbs for eyes. Every way nature could incorrectly fuse a man and spider was attacking them in a nightmarish display.

Ivan fired two shot gun shells, making Alfred's ears ring painfully. A grotesque spider faced teen oozing blackened drool launched herself at Ivan. Two other equally disgusting mutants dropped dead from their massive bullet wounds at the same time.

Dropping the gun, Ivan kicked the female abomination backwards through the air as he drew a machete from a holster. Cutting into a small child that was blood covered spider limbs bursting out one side, Ivan yelled “I told you this was a bad idea!”

Alfred was hardly safe in the cab, his side window being cracked as a _something_ terrible head butted the glass. It was a rotting human head almost falling off, two malformed spider heads in it's place. Thick noxious ooze dripped from the swollen human body as it clicked and rattled in frustration.

“AH FUCK!” Ivan cursed, three monsters latched onto his human arms and trying to drag him off the truck. Alfred reloaded the dropped shot gun, then shot the monsters point blank in the mid sections. They all fell or blew apart from the impact. A second later, the two headed freak trying to kill Alfred through the window rammed one more time. A sickening crack was heard on impact, the abomination having ironically killed itself in it's own fervour. It fell over and twitched slightly in death.

Only one left, the spider faced female teen. It shifted its attention to consuming the fresh corpses around it, Ivan and Alfred now all but invisible.

“Holy shit.” Alfred gasped.

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

“ _Holy shit._ ” the stunned and scared blonde repeated. “Okayletsgohome.” he stammered, tucking his spider legs in to hide instinctively.

“No. I wasted gas on this trip so I want to get resources out of it.” Ivan objected, spritzing liquid antibiotic from the glove compartment on his wounds.

After being told he could take all the money out of the cash register, Alfred finally agreed to uncurl and explore the restaurant. The remaining mutant was put out of her misery, a shot to the back of the head as she fed.

Handing Alfred a flash light, Ivan left the truck lights on and reloaded the shot gun. “When we go in, stay beside me okay?”

“You're so hot and badass right now.” Alfred murmured, all but glued to Ivan's side.

“I... well. I suppose.” Ivan replied more quietly, probably blushing like a school girl in the dark.

Stepping on glass as they entered the gore splattered structure, it crinkled and cracked under their hard exoskeleton feet. Skittering closer, Alfred's curiosity got the better of him. The thing on the other side of the counter was Joseph the window bitch, but not looking so great. Almost all the skin and muscles had been ripped off his body, leaving nothing but a shredded shirt and a name tag.

“Oh my god. This is a nightmare.” Alfred whimpered, retreating into Ivan's arms. All the same, Alfred was here for a reason. He placed the folded and bagged uniform on the counter, with a neatly printed letter of resignation on top.

“Feel better?” Ivan asked, holding his lover in a cuddle from the side.

“A little.”

“Good. Help me find supplies, we need everything at the moment.” Ivan soothed, giving a kiss on the cheek. One full tank of propane later Alfred and Ivan were loading up the truck. They discovered three cases of bottled water, a lot of piss warm fruit juice, and a sack of dehydrated strawberries originally for kid's meal desserts. The truck was pretty much full.

“Oh the cash register!” Alfred cheered, “How could I forget?”

Ivan sighed “You know cash is currently meaningless right now.”

“Currently is the key word here.”

“Fine. Let's get the money.” Ivan complained, but tagged along anyway. Wielding a machete, Alfred worked his way to the back of the restaurant. The manager's office was next to the frozen meat locker. Well, the rotting gross meat locker was more like it. The stench of the rotten meat wafted in the hall, fetid and powerful. It was probably what attracted so many mutant spider thingies. Ivan trained his gun on the slightly ajar meat locker door.

“There's something in there.” he whispered. 

“No, we lured them out.” Alfred dismissed in the same volume.

“Fedya! I heard something.”

Their whispering match was sharply interrupted, a massive spider busting the the meat locker door clean off the hinges. It was heads, eyes, and limbs, blood matted hair and strings of a human face stretched over a huge fanged jaw.

“AAAH!” Both boys screamed in unison, skittering like they never had before. Fleeing to the truck, they could hear the massive creature ripping the door frame out of the wall.

“HOW DID IT GET SO BIG?” Ivan screamed, fumbling as he hopped in the truck and shifted gears.

“IT ATE AND MOULTED CONTINUOUSLY IN A MEAT LOCKER!” Alfred yelled back. Shooting the nightmare beast continuously with a pistol out the now broken side window, the thing was now tearing through walls to get at them. “THE BULLETS AREN'T WORKING!”

“FUCK!” Ivan cursed, vehicle peeling out of the body littered parking lot.

Just as the truck was a good twenty metres from the restaurant, the titanic monster busted through the store front in a shower of glass and metal. Ivan reversed a few more seconds then stopped. “We have to kill it now or it'll follow us back to the house!”

“You're crazy!”

“DO YOU WANT OUR HOUSE TO GET EATEN?”

“How do we kill that? It's the size of the living room!”

“Use the big guns under the driver seat while I reverse!” Ivan ordered, the pulsing black mass of arachnid terror steadily chasing them down.

Pawing around desperately, Alfred found an unknown military grade rifle. The barrel size looked massive. “How do I use it?”

“Just start firing, I loaded it yesterday and left the safety off!” Ivan explained, reversing faster as he looked behind him.

With a high likelihood of going deaf, Alfred popped out the back and rested the massive rifle on the roof of the moving truck. Hoping the recoil wouldn't be unbearable, Alfred emptied a full clip of bullets into the advancing monsters face. It was all incredibly terrifying, because the head lights of the truck weren't showing the the full abomination. They were just two circles of light on a leviathan canvas of gore and exoskeleton.

It's warped and swollen spider abdomen was cracking open and bleeding pure black. the monster finally stopped moving in the gun fire. Alfred didn't stop until every bullet was embedded in the thing. His ears wouldn't stop ringing for a few seconds. Ivan slowed and parked the truck, panting. “I think I pooped myself.”

Alfred looked down, seeing two small dry deposits behind them. “We... we both pooped ourselves.”

“You are a terrible shot. You hit it all over the place.” Ivan scolded, keen to not talk about shitting himself from fear. 

“It worked didn't it?”

Ivan grumbled as Alfred went back in the cab, putting the now empty gun back under the seat. “We should probably leave. Fresh or noisy kills attract the monsters really quickly. I think we screamed the entire time.” The Russian-American explained, shaking loose his white knuckle grip on the wheel.

“Can we go home now?” Alfred begged.

“Yes. Before we get overwhelmed again.” Ivan agreed, just as desperate to flee.

“I promise I'll never do night stuff ever!” Alfred swore solemnly, unable to relax the rest of the ride home. One thing was for certain, Alfred was never going to look at a Burger Town restaurant the same way ever again!


	10. Chapter 10

There was things you didn't expect to happen in the apocalypse. Boredom was one of these things. Avoiding mutants, figuring out how to survive, and raiding houses of the long dead should have left no room for listlessness. Despite now living a bug based version of a zombie movie, Alfred was resoundingly bored.

There was no video games, TV, or phone apps. There was no amusing weekly newsletters, or internet memes. There was no people left except Ivan. Which, Ivan was lovely, he was cuddles and mostly on demand oral sex. That _talented_ tongue of his, it certainly made Alfred unbind like no other.

Sex, food, and shelter just wasn't enough. It was three months since society in Texas fell apart, and both males were equally bored. Alfred, the lightest of the two, was draped over Ivan while naked. It was a chilly morning for the native Texan, requiring him to sun bathe to get motivated for the day. Ivan was adjusting to hot weather in the south, but Texan winters were still pretty toasty to him.

“Vanya... I'm bored.”

“I know dearest. I am too.”

“Wanna look for survivors again?”

“No. I think we killed every mutant left in town.”

Alfred sighed, still sluggish in the morning. “Want to see if any military survived in Houston? We could play Chinese checkers with them.”

“Houston is a crater, Fedya.”

“I know but... Maybe some lonely army dudes are still left.”

Ivan snorted at the suggestion, scratching his hairy chest absently. It wasn't like they hadn't tried. They had actually made well over twenty visits to the outskirts of Houston. For a very exciting four days, they even had a human playmate. The fun was quick to end when the dying man began transforming into an abomination. Seeing as it was an unstable variant, they shot him in the head before he had a chance to kill. A guy that unevenly mutated was probably going to be nothing more than a murder beast.

“I think... It's time to move to a new town.” Ivan suggested softly, “The chances of encountering sentient people like us post infection are... not great.”

“No! This is my hometown Ivy, I was born here. I can't just... abandon it.” Alfred objected weakly, very sentimental about the subject. All the same, he was aware of the odds stacked against him. Anyone that basically drank from public water was infected. Only people with enough fat to survive metamorphosis didn't become consumed by the tiny black parasites that followed. To actually find any mutants with an intact and functioning human head was extremely rare. The only two they spotted growled and hissed like animals. Most of the time, the victims were unbalanced, or simply a bad combination of human and spider.

“I know, I know Fedya.” Ivan soothed, petting Alfred's back in long lazy strokes. “Just... consider moving. We might actually find other people to talk to.”

“I'll consider it, I guess. Do you think we could find Mattie?”

“No.” Ivan was a blunt man, and he wasn't prone to lies.

“He's dead isn't he.”

“We've been to his house and pot farm five times. Remember Carlos?” Ivan reminded him tiredly.

Of course Alfred remembered Carlos. It was hard to forget a mutant so difficult to kill. They must have emptied over 60 bullets into the twisted black monster that Carlos had become. Even then, it was twitching on the ground until Ivan rammed it with the truck.

“Want to play meat grenades?” Alfred suggested, perking up. An individual mutant took one to sixty bullets to kill, depending on size and exoskeleton thickness. A single grenade could blow apart upwards of a dozen at a time. Rubbing the grenades in chicken meat, they became irresistible to masses of starving mutants. The 'meat' grenades were so successful that Ivan and Alfred made a grotesque sport of it. Each had up to a crate of chicken rubbed grenades, and whoever killed the most won a fancy dinner.

“We killed all the mutants here.” Ivan repeated again.

“... right.”

The couple sighed and lay in the sun, suffering their absence of entertainment. After three hours of this, they finally climbed off the roof of the house. Home was looking pretty run down these days, riddled with bullet holes from fending off night time attacks. Neither man could repair things, so they had been plugging the holes up with copious amounts of webs.

This was the inherent flaw of staying still. Eventually the mutants figured out where you lived. Assuming you could survive the hordes of enemies, your house would not look pretty after. There was no convenient water hose to wash reddish black mutant guts off siding. Often it just dried there like bad graffiti.

“Eww! Mutant brains dried in the carpet again!” Alfred squealed as he walked in, kicking the one leg that had stepped on gore childishly.

“I'll get the rag.” Ivan replied, used to these silly moments. Wiping off the guts off the slender leg tip, the attached claw was polished a little as well

Alfred trotted carefully over the brain matter, looking around his once cherished home. Between the mutant blood stains, bullet holes, and lack of electricity, it just wasn't the same anymore. “The house is... kind of disgusting.” Alfred admitted.

“Just a little.” Ivan replied sarcastically as he ate beef ravioli out of a can.

“Someone is in a bad mood.”

“I miss the internet.” Ivan had been sulking at least two weeks about this, lack of purpose starting to gnaw at his normally calm composure.

“I don't know how to get the fucking internet back. Babe, I love you so much, but I can't just pull a wifi signal out of my ass.” Alfred snipped right back, in the exact same state.

The two brooded in the silence of the gross house, until Ivan dropped his ravioli can. “Fedya! That RV centre at the edge of town!”

“I thought we already went there.” Alfred replied, still moody.

“Yeah, When we were looking for survivors. We weren't looking for internet. Maybe one of those super luxury RV's has a wifi emitter.” Ivan went on, eyes bright with enthusiasm. It was contagious, making even a depressed Alfred cheer up.

“Ivy. I just had an idea. We find a source of internet access, and we make a show! We could be famous!”

“We'd be the only show in the southern USA, or the west... or the north.... God, is everyone dead already?” Ivan pondered as he spoke.

“Don't worry about that my love bug, we're going to be internet superstars! Come on!” Alfred pulled Ivan along to the truck.

The drive was very stop and go, since they had to wait for herds of animals to cross the abandoned highways. Ever since they killed every mutant in town, all the escaped farm animals were beginning to explode in population. It was common to see droves of feral chickens scratching for worms throughout the dead town.

Staring at a herd of horses as they plodded slowly across the road, Ivan looked a little lost. “Fedya... I've been thinking a lot this. I think I'm patient zero.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Alfred asked absently as he cleaned his claws.

“I'm the origin of the Washington Virus.” Ivan stated quite seriously. It was the term that media had applied before almost all American social networks fell apart. The virus had, after all, made it's famous debut in Washington by killing everyone in the white house.

“Babe, no. You're too handsome to kill all of America.” Alfred replied, having had this conversation already.

“I stay locked in my apartment for nine years, no virus outbreak. Two weeks after I leave, politicians are puking spider babies. Every place I went out in public, every single place, was identified as a hot zone for the virus. Every single one.” Ivan went on, getting more upset as he spoke.

Alfred pulled Ivan in a loving side hug. “No. Just look at the math of it. Thousands of people from around the world entered and left Washington all the time. That's thousands of patient zeroes. Honestly, aside from biting people, we don't even know if you're infectious in this state. If you were, all that air vented out of your old apartment would have killed everyone nine years ago.”

Sniffling a little, Ivan looked at him shyly. “You think so?”

“Yeah big guy. You never killed anything. You know what? We're going to find an internet thingy, a nice RV to live in, and we're going to be internet super stars.”

Ivan stopped being disturbed by his own dark circles of thought, daring to smile. “Internet super stars huh?”

“Yup. You and me!” Alfred cheered, giving him a cheek kiss.

“Okay... We can at least try... I love you Fedya.”

“I love you too, you great big silly spider.” Alfred meant it, every word.


	11. Chapter 11

Kiku Honda was a brave man and a superior soldier. He came from a line of such men, dating back to the Japanese empire. It was a long held family honour, one he refused to let die. It was this resolve that lifted the Japanese sailor high in rank above graduates of his year, so many years ago.

No longer as young, a few streaks of grey infiltrated the raven black hair of the chief petty officer. He was one of the older Maritime Self-Defence Forces recruits, close to gaining a full time office job on the land. Still, he was fit and willing to risk his life for the glory of Japan.

This burning need to protect the peoples was easily spotted in determined brown eyes. It was the reason Kiku was in active duty as long as he was. The higher ups could feel his pride like a great dragon, ready to kill all invading spider scum. _Nothing would harm the glory of Japan_.

It had been a year since USA, Canada, Cuba, and Mexico all fell to the otherworldly JI-89, better known as the Washington Virus, or “Yankee Plague” among sailors. It was a rapacious and swift virus, turning the most noble of boat men into arachnid horrors ranging from black to natural hues. Venomous fangs, strong limbs... the infected were not to be taken lightly.

Under recommendation from the German, Russian, and French governments, The Japanese Government was on full alert and had been for a year. No force was too much, no fleet size too unnecessary. This struggle was beyond geopolitics, it was a fight for humanity's survival.

Kiku scoured flotilla reports, searching for signs of Yankee Plague advancements. No lost crews this month. Fallen American navy often retained limited intelligence, enough to steer an already moving ship and play dead.

“Sir! An infected armada!” An officer on deck reported, running into the office and saluting hurriedly. Breath catching in his chest, Kiku stood up in alarm. An entire flotilla of united ships, infected and bent on the death of Kiku's homeland. It was terrifying, and enraging. _They would die_. Kiku raced to the bridge, waving off the lesser officer.

“Crew report, what is the status of the enemy flotilla?” The battle hardened man commanded sharply.

“One Canadian destroyer, five American frigates, and an unknown cruiser. The cruiser has already taken critical damage. All known ships are listed missing.” One man reported.

“Standard hail and ready all ships for attack.” Kiku ordered coldly, with absolutely no intention of playing nice. A minute passed with no response. More than enough excuse to sink the enemy, since satellite scans confirmed abominations on deck.

“Within firing range sir, no response to our warnings.”

All men turned to Kiku, whom stared with such hatred at the distant ships that it was unsettling. “Destroy the enemy fleet!” he commanded to all ships on broad frequency. A oceanic god of death, Kiku watched the frigates get shredded by his own fleet. The captains under Kiku's strict heel were in smaller but swifter ships with all modern technologies. 

Still, superior gear did not make a man invincible. The drunken firing of the now sinking cruiser managed to land a solid hit in Kiku's ship, making it rock violently on the choppy Pacific seas. “Focus men! Destroy the enemy!” he shouted, keeping up focus and morale. This seemed to spur the Japanese ships on like angry beasts, bombarding their foe with long range artillery.

Finally, the last boat sunk as it burned. Cheers of victory erupted, for it had been a tough fight. They had been a fleet of four fighting a force of seven. Until it was no longer a time of celebration. Three minutes later, more infected were detected travelling at full speed. They were modern US models, making Kiku's overworked fleet look like a small snack.

“How many detected.” The chief petty officer asked the room openly, his gut anxiously clenching.

“Five fast approaching.”

That wasn't good in the slightest. “Fall back into defensive formation and request air support.” If they could hear Kiku's pleas this far out, if they was any air support left, If there was anyone left this far out. Twelve minutes until direct contact as the battered fleet retreated. At ten minutes they could go back no farther without losing the assigned region. At six minutes all five looming ships were quite visible now, teeming with mutated American sailors.

Kiku's four ships concentrated on sinking one ship at a time as they were doggedly pursued, matched for speed and slightly out manoeuvred. Then salvation came. A flock of German jet planes answered their call, crackly and barely making sense. In two minutes, Kiku's fleet was on the verge of being caught, but the jets were faster. Ten Eurofighter Typhoons ripped past at ear splitting speeds, a barrage of deadly missiles launched at the aggressors.

It was sky coloured spirits to save Kiku, their fiery wrath shredding all five enemy ships in a series of small explosions. As the eternally hungry ocean swallowed the capsizing boats whole, more radio messages came in. It was hardly a surprise. Typhoons were fast burning short range killers, dependant on land bases or aircraft carriers for sustenance. In short, the wasps were rarely far from the hive.

A familiar voice, cold to some but warm to Kiku's heart, sounded over the radio. “This is German Air Force Commander Schmidt ordering you to convene and report at these co-ordinates.”

“Yes sir. Heading to specified location.” Kiku replied, with a hint of a smile. Not that this newer crew would know his smiles if he made one. After all, not much made him create such joyful expression.

Kiku knew the ship they were headed to before it was even in sight. It was the SMS Merkel, the best German aircraft carrier in the Pacific ocean. It had been specially carried over in pieces and assembled for this war. Though no one ever thought they would have to use an elite air craft carrier against zombies. Or whatever they were. Kiku didn't care, as long as they all died.

The Japanese man understood what was going on when not one but two men above him in rank were present. Ludwig technically couldn't tell him what to do, but the older commander beside him could. The higher ranking commander seemed to have immediately stripped him of control of all ships before he even boarded the SMS Merkel.

Chief petty officer Honda was in big trouble again.

The office was private and below deck, with one bright bulb in the ceiling. It cast harsh shadow as the two superiors stared him down.

“You went too far this time Honda.” Ludwig began harshly. Kiku was not hurt by the accusation, but rather touched. Commander Ludwig Schmidt was a man of ambition and ghosts. The severe blonde had less years in service than Kiku, yet a higher rank and hundreds of kills. He was haunted by his 'achievements', just as his blue eyes held reflections of grief.

Ludwig always got _so_ upset when Kiku was almost killed. “You went too far! You went to the edge of your assigned region, taking on far too much! You know it's spider territory out that far and you just – You had to push the boundaries! This subversive disobedience will not be tolerated in alliance with my air force!”

Red in the face, the passionate German was put in line by a look from the other commander. He took a big breath, and sat once more. He fixed a stray hair that had escaped it's gel prison during his loud speech in fluent Japanese. Grieving blue eyes stared at Kiku over tented fingers in silence.

Kiku's boss was far less expressive but still, there was a sense of disappointment. “Though I am less... vocal about this,” The esteemed man began, glancing at Ludwig, “I must agree with our German allies. You are acting rashly out there. Air support is always bailing you out of tight situations. Have you ever come to think the other fleets need them too?”

Oh... Kiku was in _massive_ trouble.

“Those things killed my daughter, commander. I have a picture...” Kiku tried to reason, emotions frayed. He hadn't slept well for days.

“Did I give you permission to speak, Chief petty officer!?” his boss thundered, releasing his authority like a crashing wave. It drowned out the brief blaze of Kiku's vengeful pride. The isolated man silenced, certain he would be punished now.

“You are being transferred to offices in Munich for one year. After that time, you will be psychologically reassessed on whether you are fit for combat. You will be escorted by commander Schmidt, and assist him with his work. If I hear a single complaint...” There was a long terrible pause that didn't need words, the danger of the vacant moment enough threat. 

“You are dismissed Honda” With this order, the Japanese commander left. The two remaining men stared at each other, having known each other decades. They knew there was listening devices in the room. They understood just how much trouble Kiku was in.

Ludwig silently mouthed the words “I'm sorry.” in Japanese, then stood.

Kiku nodded grimly, gesturing to the other to lead the way. There was no malice between the old friends, having fought in tandem against the impossible before.

The flight to the mainland was a long one, with just the two men and a small cargo load. It was a private water plane with far better range than the jets. It wasn't military grade, but it could land on water in times of emergency.

They were both men of little words as Ludwig flew the plane. Knowing how upset the German was, Kiku though it wise to break the ice before the blonde imploded from emotional constipation. “Ludwig? Can we talk?” He even spoke in German, trying to appeal to his technically new boss.

“Your German pronunciation is terrible.” Ludwig grumbled, as he flew the plane with tightly gripped leather gloves. It was just another ploy, wearing the gloves in all but the hottest weather. To hide when he was white knuckled in terror, to never get blood on his hands again.

“It wasn't used a lot on the water.” Kiku admitted, struggling to keep up in language speed.

“Because you tried to kill yourself in the middle of the pacific.” The blonde accused, refusing to look at him.

“I was avenging my daughter.” Kiku bristled.

“You were trying to join her.” Ludwig was quick to shut the shorter man down, sounding angry again.

“This is not what Atsuko would have wanted. Me hiding from the sea where I belong.” The dark haired man whispered. Ludwig didn't understand the hole in Kiku's heart, like a gaping gunshot that never healed. He didn't understand hate for the enemy was the only thing that made Kiku get up in the morning.

Ludwig shook his head in disappointment. “Your pride and rage are as alive as ever.”

Kiku sighed. This was the closest to a real argument they had in years. They were not loud people after all. It would be dishonour and misery for weeks if nothing was done. “I don't know what to do.” He admitted openly. Killing ships had been his primary function for months, and it had side effects.

“You don't have to, I'm your new boss.” Ludwig joked flatly, his posture finally relaxing. The barest hint of a smile, so genuine. The mood of the moment was once again pleasant, like the scent of the sakura trees they met under twenty years ago. Eventually they reached land, and all it's lovely luxuries. Not sharing bathrooms with fourteen other sailors was easily one of the best perks. The hotel room was nothing special, since they were back on a plane in the morning.

Flopping on one of the separated beds, Kiku's black bag of possessions was dumped on the floor. Finally alone, Ludwig lay next to him in a lazy cuddle. Resting his head on a shoulder and wrapping an arm around, Kiku was _built_ for hugging a particular German beefcake.

“What new idea of yours requires two high ranking military officers?” Kiku asked with a yawn in Japanese.

Ludwig idly scratched Kiku's scalp in slow soothing circles. “Watch this, and you'll understand.” he answered simply, holding his phone sideways for better resolution. Kiku didn't really understand what the big deal was, it was just a badly edited blog video of a guy in an RV. The blonde in the video was annoying as he was tan, with a distinctive American southern drawl.

“Hey all you fine folks in that big world! Welcome to American adventures! I'm your host Alfred, and this is Ivan!” The mounted camera was turned to the previously unknown driver of the RV. The shocking realization was in the panoramic it revealed. Both seemingly normal men were spider mutants below the waist. The smaller golden brown one was chatting to the larger grey and pale skinned one in structured conversation. English was not either viewer's best language, but they could pick out enough to get the context.

“They... They are sentient mutants.” Kiku sputtered. Ludwig paused the video so his companion could get all the reactions out of his system. “They are using _words_ , in a row, intelligently.”

“It gets better, there's thirty five episodes.” Ludwig noted, scrolling to show a massive list below. Thus, they binged watched goofy blog entries until they passed out curled up together. They had _plans_ now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I changed Germany's last name to something my spellcheck would stop having panic attacks over. It's fine. I am not a sailor, so my Navy lingo is 75% bullshit and Wikipedia.


	12. Chapter 12

Ivan writhed and moaned while laying on his back, helpless as he bowed and arched to pleasure. It was a state Alfred loved to create in his companion through teasing oral. Alternating between languid licks and rapid strokes, the otherwise inconspicuous hole on Ivan's underside was lavished with attention. After ten months of sentient life in his new form, Alfred had come to embrace his new life.

Humorously, the first thing Alfred recovered from the loss of was his dick. Spiders were straightforward things sexually, if rather rough about foreplay. Both genders had small holes on the underside. Males put stuff from their holes in other holes. This was either done directly, or delivered as a web package. It was literally the gift that kept on giving. There was not a lot of mating rituals, protrusions, or additional organs involved.

The sheer simplicity of sex with Ivan was easily made up for in duration. It was hard to be upset over lack of sex positions when you were coasting on your fourteenth orgasm in a row, unable to speak. Ivan was a drooling mess as he came again, gasping Alfred's name weakly. Under regular situations, the sunny blonde would be right in there, getting eaten out at the same time.

But not today. Their RV was parked in unknown territory as the couple searched for new filming locations. There could be mutants anywhere, so at least one person had to be alert. Alfred paused to listen for enemies, making Ivan whine in his sex driven delirium.

“More... more...” Ivan panted tiredly, barely able to move.

“Yes, just let me get a towel. You're like... covered in cum.” Alfred assured sweetly, climbing off the sleeping web at the back of the roomy RV. Soft snoring was heard the minute Alfred turned around. Looking over his shoulder, the freckled Texan grinned at the scene. Ivan was out for the count, all eight legs splayed limp with his body painted a pale slick from spilled seed.

Honestly, the big guy deserved to sleep well. The loneliness of their existence was starting to get to Ivan. Both males would be insane by now if it wasn't for producing the internet show. Their whole lives revolved around keeping the RV pristine for new episodes. Absently mopping products of their lovemaking up, the mop and bucket were taken outside to dry out after. Staring at their latest film site in the far distance, the landscape was much like the hilly parts of Texas. Dry, sandy, and covered in rocks.

Twin Falls, in Idaho, was bigger than Alfred expected. Honestly, the only reason they drove here was because of the name. Viewers really gravitated to interesting names or famous locations. Snake river was a broad winding thing that cut a tiny canyon beside Twin Falls. The mighty river was spanned by a large concrete bridge pointing to the town centre. Across the bridge, dark shapes of buildings maybe four stories tall could be seen.

Hmm. The place had potential after all, especially of it lived up to it's name. An episode with real waterfalls in it would be total internet eye candy. More fame, more viewers, more people leaving comments on their page. It wasn't really enough socialization for Alfred, but it took the edge off.

“Mattie?” Alfred asked open air.

“Mattie, I know it's been a while. But, I felt like talking to you. It's been a long time since I've seen anyone other than Ivan. Not that Ivan isn't a cutie. But... It's not enough.”

There was a faint rusting of grass, as a breeze whisked by.

“I know. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I tried. I really did. I looked all over home a dozen times before I moved away.” Alfred replied to the nothingness, heart cold and aching from his long term isolation. He stared at the late summer sky for a time, watching flocks of birds pass by.

Matthew didn't reply, because he was dead and it was Alfred's fault. The proud man-spider would never say it, but the end of the world was completely his fault. Ivan was right all along, and Alfred was determined to never let him know. Ivan was patient zero, he just had to be.

Alfred had exhaustively researched every incident since Ivan left his self-imposed prison in Washington. Every person he touched had died. It took two weeks to a month to get started, but death was inevitable. The entire apartment block he used to live in was quarantined and eventually burned because it was so infected.

Ivan left his apartment, dooming the capitol city. Ivan flew to the Houston airport, making service staff throw up a fortnight later. He probably infected Alfred from the very first handshake. All because Alfred was lonely and invited the walking plague inducer into his bug obsessed soul.

No, there was simply no point in letting Ivan know he was right. He would be so depressed for months, if not years, over the topic. That Adonis of easily sunburned beauty didn't need to be sad. Besides, with everyone dead or mutated, the subject of where the virus started didn't matter.

Alfred had to look on the bright side of the apocalypse. All the annoying teenagers were dead. He was self employed in a online television show, with over six thousand regular viewers. Alfred never had to wear clothes except in the winter. He got to play with grenades and get free stuff... Now if only there was more people to share with.

Ivan woke four hours later, stretching and walking slowly. It was high noon, so he came out to sun himself. “Hello Fedya.”

“Hey love bug.” Alfred greeted absently while scanning the town with high power binoculars.

“What is my angel up to?” Ivan hugged him from behind, mounting Alfred a little and giving a suggestive rub. It was a possessive act as well, marking the smaller companion with Ivan's pleasant chamomile musk. It was a primitive thing to, but they could be quite basal with their affections.

Alfred put down the binoculars to nuzzle back, needy for touch. “Looking for feral mutants. I wanna see what we're walking into.”

“See any?”

“No. I think they starved to death, just like in Salt Lake city.”

Ivan let go so he could lay on his belly next to Alfred, legs spread in relaxed manner. “It makes shooting episodes easier at least.”

“It also means there's no food left.” Alfred said, his own hunger quite vocal. His stomach rumbled, reminding him it had been a week now. Spider digestion was not terribly fast or efficient, and it was still the case for the boys. They generally ate one enormous meal at some point, then it took an age to process. All the while, Alfred and Ivan would lay around lethargically, saving their limited energy for survival or defence. Hyperactive athletes they were not, by any stretch of the imagination.

“I know. I'm hungry too. I was thinking of setting up a web to snare deer or birds.” Ivan suggested.

In the absence of human society, nature came back with vengeance. All prey animal populations were booming, even in the mere nine months the couple had been travelling. There was flocks of birds, colonies of rodents, and packs of wild dogs. Deer and horses grazed side by side on the grassy planes. Coyotes were gradually sharing space with wolves and wild cats.

Alfred licked his lips at the thought of a nice tasty deer. A barbecued horse. Perhaps some wild chickens, marinated with sauce. A rabbit, _several_ rabbits... A light touch on the leg from Ivan made him realize he was zoning out. “Did I go weird eyed again?”

“A little.” Ivan replied, “I promise we'll catch fresh food today.”

Alfred's hunger was getting the best of him. Ivan roughly fucking Alfred while in a trance was a classic example of why suppression was very bad. You ignored how horny or hungry you were long enough, you were bound to go a little feral. “Right... I'll get the guns clean and ready to go.”

“You do that.” Ivan mumbled, sleepy as he absorbed energy from the sun.

An hour later, they were on foot in the dry plains north of Twin Falls. Ivan had hammered wooden spikes in the ground, using them as point to weave off of, in no time at all, a quick triangular web trap was set. Pulling out a well used salt lick, Ivan held it out. “Spit.”

“Nooo it's embarrassing.” Alfred denied childishly.

“You are more venomous than me, so spit.” Ivan repeated, pushing the salt lick at him.

Alfred huffed, crossing his arms. After giving Ivan a look of scorn, the very tanned blonde leaned over and spit on the salt lick. It was true. After adjusting to his new life, It was obvious Ivan had pathetic poison for his size. The only way he could rapidly kill things was through weapons or crushing an animal's wind pipe. Alfred's neurotoxin was at least five times stronger, capable of paralyzing horses quickly.

“You should hunt with me!” Alfred cheered, gesturing to the sniper rifle on his back.

“Hmm. Nope. Too much work. I'll be by that rock with a book.” Ivan replied flatly as he pointed in the distance, not really one for exercise.

Alfred was feeling springy today, motivated by screaming hunger. “Your loss.” Setting out, Alfred scanned the horizon with binoculars. After thirty minutes, a dot of a bunny was spotted very far away. With what little attention span the starving blonde could manage, he pushed up his glasses and set up the sniper rifle.

Lining up the shot wasn't hard, given the weather was calm. With a slow long breath, Alfred stared through the scope, then pulled the trigger. The bunny in his scope sights fell over and began twitching. “Yes!” the deeply tanned male whooped in victory. He picked up his gun and it's tiny folding tripod base, then began walking over. Yips and howls were heard getting closer, but Alfred was too hungry to care.

A pack of six coyotes peeked over a small hill, the same distance from the kill as Alfred. A few yipped and raced forward. They had numbers and speed, but they underestimated Alfred. The stupid creatures didn't understand just how pissed off a starving mutant could get. Mentally snapping, Alfred threw his gun to the side and hissed.

A struggle of clawing, tearing, biting. The battle was so short it barely registered. The coyotes had indeed stolen Alfred's kill, at the loss of two pack mates. One was a mutilated mess in Alfred's clawed hands, another coyote paralyzed and foaming at the mouth from being bitten.

It took a long minute for reason to return, but it eventually did. Alfred found himself covered in fresh blood. The smell should disgust him, but it did not. Looking down at the torn apart animal in his hands. Just one bite, a _taste_...

Alfred returned to Ivan's trap site two hours later, one dead coyote slung over his shoulder. Ivan was lounging belly down on a modified out door lounge chair, essentially backwards from how it was intended for use. It was the only way either hybrid could actually rest, other than webs or beanbag chairs. In a ridiculous sun hat and long shirt, Ivan looked half asleep while faced in the general direction of his salt lick set up.

Cracking open an eye, Ivan hummed. “Hey killer.”

“Hey sleepy. Get anything?” The coyote was dumped before Alfred's love to be inspected as all kills were.

“Not really... and... another coyote.” Ivan observed dully, lifting the brim of his silly hat up to inspect his lover. “That's a lot of blood for one coyote.”

Alfred said nothing, a terrible liar most of the time. His guilty expression was telling.

“You ate one raw didn't you? I'm starting to think you enjoy eating worm pills.” Ivan teased, not upset at all. This was the fourth time Alfred had eaten something raw while feral. He frequently caught internal parasites at such savage occasions.

“I was hungry! I couldn't help myself!”

“Don't wait seven days to feed yourself. I go out every three, and you don't see me ripping the heads off wild dogs.”

Alfred groaned at the reminder. “I rip _one_ dog head off and suddenly it's a hobby.”

In the midst of their routine bickering, a yelp of distress was heard behind them. A curious deer was calling out in panic as it struggled in Ivan's trap. The two men watched impassively as it exhausted and tangled itself. After a few minutes, it twitched and stopped moving.

“It seems dinner has been caught.” Ivan noted, stretching as he stood.

“You are the laziest hunter I've ever seen. Where's the adventure?” Alfred bickered once more as they both walked over to the trap.

“Adventure means getting hurt. I like staying intact.”

“What could possible kill you other than feral mutants?”

“Bears. A bad kick from a horse. Falling house roof. Rat poison. Guns...” Ivan started listing things as he tore up his web trap. Alfred rolled his eyes, still the list went on. “... falling out of trees could crack my abdomen open and I'd bleed to death. Getting stabbed. Bleach. Being set on fire. Adventure is danger, so I prefer _less_ adventure.”

“Mister smarty pants.” Alfred retorted as he helped carry half of the deer to the RV. It had to be processed quickly if they were going to clean everything up and dry it into jerky. With refrigerators a thing of the past, salting and drying food was the only way to keep snacks over a week. Snacks kept both of them reasonable and in check. All the same, it was a lot of work, and Alfred was lazy. Not having eaten for a week do to lack of preparation was entirely his fault.

While Ivan started processing that mess, Alfred went out to fetch the coyote, that ridiculous sun blue hat, and the lawn chairs. Along the way, he picked up dry twigs for kindling. Upon return the deer already had the tawny furred skin peeled off like a sheet. Ivan no longer tried to get the fur on the ankles, so the job went by a lot faster.

Dumping the junk by the RV entrance, Alfred brought the coyote to Ivan. “Can you skin this? I'll clean the hides.”

“Sure.” Ivan replied distantly. Alfred left him to his thoughts while scraping fat and remaining nerve attachments off the deer hide. In the middle of his task, a soft sound was heard. It wasn't scratching, or heavy breathing, so not a mutant sneak attack. Spotting the source, it was Ivan. Ivan had put down his skinning knife, his crying almost totally silent.

“Babe, babe, are you hurt!?” Alfred asked in concern, dumping his task on the ground, forgotten.

“No.” Ivan sniffled, dabbing his eyes dry with a ragged shirt edge.

“What's the matter then.” Alfred pestered, giving the man a generous front hug. Petting his back with soothing circles was always effective. Alfred could feel a few tears on his shoulder as the larger man hid his expression in Alfred's shaggy hair.

“It's... It's stupid.”

“Your feelings aren't stupid. You know you can trust me.”

This seemed to break the crumbing walls guarding his trembling heart. Ivan finally let out a deep breath, beginning to speak. “I'm happy with you. I am. But when I was 25, I had this vision of what I wanted. I wanted to be married with a house, and lots of kids. I was at trading company. I wanted to be a manager type guy someday. You know, get out of the bull pens.” Ivan let Alfred go, and unfolded the lawn chair dragged back earlier. Crashing on the chair, he continued. “I wanted wealth, or respect. Not... not living in an RV during the apocalypse.”

Alfred his body sank to the ground before Ivan, low enough to block the view and kiss that gorgeous yet depressed face. “We can still have those things.”

“How?”

“We're internet famous babe. We're the only people with a TV show in all of the US, or Canada, or Mexico. That makes us important.”

“Everyone's dead. That sets the bar pretty low.”

Clearly Ivan was for real depressed. The standard methods of recreational sex and food bribery would not work today. This 'All Across America' tour show had originally been engineered so they wouldn't be bored out of their minds. Alfred hoped it would cure the residual depression that clung to both of them. So far this was not the case. “We'll go to Washington.”

Ivan perked a brow, but said nothing.

“I'll become the president of North America. We can live in the white house. We'll have like a dozen kids and a farm in the back. Grow vegetables to feed to live stock.” Alfred went on, until Ivan started to crack a smile.

“You are a dreamer Alfred, but at least you know how to make me laugh.”

Alfred stood, indignant. “Why can't I become the President of North America? We have at least two voters that are registered US citizens.”

“You're not 35, and you know nothing of economics, or any kind of sciences...” Ivan interrupted Alfred in the beginning of a protest. “... except entomologist stuff, and an independent writers course.”

“I know HTML. That has to count towards a successful presidency.”

“It really doesn't dear.”

Alfred pouted and paced a little, thwarted by his lover's ironclad logic. Then he had the most brilliant idea of all brilliant ideas to ever happen. “Ivy, Ivy! You could be the President of the US!”

“That's crazy... I... I couldn't.”

By the hesitancy in Ivan's voice, he just knew he could. It was legally possible. “I know you could. You're 36, you're money smart. You know how to set up the DVD player in the RV.”

Ivan blushed at the mention of his age, then looked quite ashamed of himself. “Alfred... I lied to you on the internet. I'm... 40 years old. I didn't want you to be turned off by the age gap, on the off chance we might date.”

Alfred broke into laughter, wild and warm. “I had freaky giant spider sex with you while human, agreed to date you, survive the apocalypse with you... and you honestly think lying about your age by four years is going to make me dump you?”

Ivan looked up at him with the most serious expression.

“Ivy, Ivy, Ivy... you are a silly love bug. I used to get dates off of Grindr. This is almost normal in comparison.”

“Oh my god, you didn't get diseases from that did you?” Ivan asked, shocked, but now very distracted from his grief.

“The fact that you know what Grindr is, and the fact we are standing in the apocalypse, means I don't have to answer that.” Alfred retorted.

“Did I eat somebody out that has herpes!?” Ivan squealed in disgust, hiding his now scarlet face.

“Relax! I'm clean! I tested myself like a week before you came over.” Alfred insisted, now hot under the nonexistent collar himself.

“Oh thank god. Though I don't know if spider-people can get herpes.”

“Probably not. It's a mammalian disease and we're three quarters not mammal.” Alfred assured, retreating from the hot sun in the cool shelter of the RV.

After a minute, there was a shrill “You got tested a week before I arrived? What were you planning to do with me?” Ivan followed him in, flustered and concerned.

“Have sex with you after I got you super drunk. After that, maybe watch Wheel Of Fortune together... or play Jenga.” Alfred answered candidly, lounging on their web. Chugging water from a plastic bottle, he paused to wink flirtatiously.

“I was lured out of my Washington apartment by a young sexual predator!” Ivan teased, feigning shock playfully.

“You know it babe.” Alfred layered on the charm, then paused. Huh, he was a bit of sex hungry weirdo after all. Too late to get upset over that now, it seemed.

With Ivan out of his depressed funk. It was time to at least try clearing out town of any remaining mutants. Alfred knew it was anywhere from a day to a week to do such tasks, even with a place as small as Twin Falls.

Salt Lake City had been extremely easy, only taking half a day to clean up. That was purely because of lucky circumstances. A massive concrete barrier had been roughly slapped together in the last days of society. It had been a last ditch effort to stop the ruined city's new infected population from busting free and ravaging the countryside. It was incredibly effective, piles of spider abominations in dead piles at the bottom of the tall walls. They had all starved while trying to escape. By the time Ivan and came through on a kill tour and filming trip, there was probably 200 or less left in the whole place.

Ivan and Alfred now stood at the bridge leading into Twin Falls. Starting a clean up was always so daunting and honestly, scary. “Okay. Let's do this.” Alfred muttered to himself, before yelling at the town through a megaphone. “HEY UGLY FUCKERS OF TWIN FALLS, COME AND EAT ME!”

The megaphone was so loud, it made both their ears ring painfully. With Ivan wielding a bazooka and Alfred using a rifle, they stood tense for battle. Several minutes past, with only the wind to whisper any response. Tense, Alfred peaked over the edge of the bridge. No mutants climbing up from below.

“Anything?” Ivan asked, looking behind them.

Alfred shrugged, and walked closer to town. “I don't think there's anything – AH FUCK!” A massive fat spider the size of a truck charged out of the thick overgrown bushes at the end of the bridge. Dragging it's heavy warped body with insane fervour, it was slightly slower than Alfred as he fled and cried.

“Lay flat Fedya!” Ivan ordered, rocket launcher aimed.

Alfred screamed as he tripped on his rifle. Curling into a ball of spider legs and fear, he was certain he was going to die. Fortunately he wouldn't get the opportunity to perish yet. The truck sized abomination exploded in a spray of black blood and fire. The huge head was obliterated, three glossy fangs the length of Alfred's arm still attached by strings of muscle.

Ears ringing from being so close to the explosion, Alfred sat up in a daze. Ivan was rushing over, saying... _something_. “... Fedya, are...” “... get hurt...” “... the... bucket and...”

Alfred wobbled as he was pulled to his feet, dripping in blood with shredded mutant guts draped over his legs. “I... don't...” He stammered, pausing when he couldn't hear much of anything. The world was splinters and blurs, which was hardly a surprise. His glasses were broken again.

A very upset looking Ivan used a very long rope and a bucket to fetch water from the river below. It look far longer for his hearing to return than Alfred liked. “Ivan... We need to buy sound cancelling headphones for that thing.” he finally commented as he was mostly washed clean.

“I'm... I'm sorry.” Ivan replied anxiously.

“I'm not dead. Everything is fine. You didn't do anything wrong babe!” Alfred gave a thumbs up. After a minute, he paled and leaned over the bridge edge. A culmination of raw coyote and pants shitting terror made him empty his guts. Ivan rubbed Alfred's back in comfort while he finished hurling, then fetched another bucket of water to clean up again.

“Maybe we should try this again tomorrow. I can't anymore.” Alfred suggested, taking his shattered glasses off. Everything was blurry and impossible to follow.

“Okay. Hold onto my arm, then I'll guide you back to the RV.” Ivan offered, a vaguely chamomile scented blob that held his hand.

That evening. Ivan and Alfred watched international news on the tablet. It was recharged by solar energy over two days, allowing a few hours use. To produce the 'American Adventures' show, the boys typically did all the shots with charged up smart phones, then use the scant three hours on the tablet to edit like fiends. This granted about ten minutes or so to post the new video before the power on the battery gave out. Thus the recharging cycle began all over again.

Tonight's news was the BBC, followed by Doctor Who after. Alfred mostly tolerated both shows for Ivan's sake. It was the big guy's turn after all. The newscaster talking was almost as monotone as his grey suit.

“It seems new life has been spotted in the United States of America. Life in the form of blogging. Deep in the infection zone, two young men have been filming and creating an online show call 'American Adventures'. Although the subject of the blog could be considered mundane, and even boring to some, scientists find the videos invaluable to science. I'm here with special guest, Geneticist and UN scientist Wolfgang Kruger, to discuss why.”

A haggard looking scientist type greeted the newscaster with a very thick German accent. “Hello. Pleased to be speaking.”

“Kruger, why is this ongoing blog so important to science?”

“Vell, It not only shows that the infected can retain functional sentience, but that they can be reasoned vith. You can clearly see in clips that they speak English, and sometimes Russian. We can also study the vay these new sentient mutants socialize and play, tasks previously thought impossible.”

“Fascinating. It was said that...” As Ivan and Alfred watched on, the obvious was clear. They were going to be ridiculously famous. Beyond famous, they were going to be the new Hollywood. Alfred smiled, while Ivan looked as anxious as ever.

With the deer and coyote being dried in a portable smoke house outside, the lonely boys were prime targets. Ivan string up a simple alarm of tin cans on strings in several rings around the RV and smokehouse. The cleaned animal hides were being stretched over frames to dry over night as well.

As the last of the sun sunk into darkness, the tablet's battery died. It had lasted barely long enough to finish Ivan's TV show. Plugging it in to charge with sunrise, the couple huddled in the RV. Finally turning off the flash light, the worst part of their lives began.

Night time was the worst, since they were both blind in the unlit reality of their world. All they could do was huddle in a ball until the sun returned. It was so nerve wracking, Alfred and Ivan frequently alternated who slept at night, while the other would nap during half of the day. They alternated who drove as well, to keep things fair.

However, they couldn't afford this luxury. They needed full rest for the next day, because town clearing was extremely dangerous. The tactics required for the job changed constantly. Ten months ago, there was mutants of all inferiority in every dark corner. As time went on, the more agile and functional varieties thrived. The ungainly, top heavy, and very slow were quick to starve to death.

Officially one year into the apocalypse, only the best killers remained. The forms of this ranged from full on spiders like encountered earlier, to stealthy wall climbing types with mostly human bodies. They could fool you from afar as a potential survivor. Up close, their fanged spider faces were something not even a mother could love.

All of this waited for them in the dark.

It was miracle like always when the couple woke the next morning. They were so relieved as they felt each other over, looking for injuries. Next they inspected the pristine RV and the weapon storage boxes under their web. “We're okay. We made it.” Alfred whispered, thankful.

“Yes, but did our food survive?” Ivan asked in the same hushed tones.

Each man grabbed a loaded 9 mm pistol and headed outside carefully. Several tin can alarms were snagged on the leg of a rabbit. It looked panicked but exhausted. Alfred licked one of his small but dangerous claws, and pricked the trapped creature. It fainted almost immediately.

“A snack at least... The smokehouse is fine. Crows tried to get in but failed.” Ivan reported as he freed the comatose bunny from the string snare. It still moved a little, but it would be dead very soon. The deer and coyote were all dried to brown edible strips that would last two weeks at most. Honestly, two weeks was plenty long with their currently life style.

Cleaning up the RV sight so it was less enticing to predators, The duo ended up at the damn bridge again. Alfred clutched the rifle to his chest. Walking slowly across the bridge, he sucked in timid breaths. Ivan put his rocket launcher down, and pulled Alfred into his big strong arms.

“It's okay... It's okay. We'll protect each other.”

“I'm brave and... strong, and I'm going to kick spider ass.” Alfred said to himself more than Ivan, voice wobbly. Still, he carried more conviction than before to complete his tasks. He needed to find more replacement glasses, some place that sold wedding rings, and baby books.

If Ivan wanted a pack kids and a white picket fence, he was going to get it. All his dreams were easy, except the whole child issue. Well, it was less of an issue about possibility, and more about safety. Alfred had a sick suspicion they might find _plenty_ of babies in the hospitals and clinics. The problem was it was an absolute death wish to enter one.

A year ago, hospitals were places of shelter and recovery. It was instinctively the place people went if they were sick or hurting. Now they were temples to disease and destruction, always packed to the windows with horrifying mutants. Even months later, Alfred was frightened by the aspect of entering one again. But Ivan would get the family he deserved.

Once more soothed, the couple cautiously proceeded through town. The optometrist place was not far away from a jewellery shop in a strip mall. The baby books were easy. All of these things Alfred snatched while Ivan was distracted with his own looting. Unsure what wedding rings Ivan would like, Alfred simply grabbed all of them and tossed them in a backpack.

“Where are all the mutants?” Ivan asked curiously, as he grabbed boxes of ammunition in a sporting goods shop.

Alfred was done grabbing what he wanted, and followed casually. “I have no clue. The tourist book claimed this place had a cheese factory and stuff.”

“I bet all the rotten cheese lured them over there.”

“Probably. There was also a sausage festival, and a processing plant on the west side.” Alfred grimaced at the thought of all that rotten cheese and meat just sitting around. It must smell disgusting!

“So why do we need to go to the hospital... Saint Luke's Magic Valley?” Ivan asked curiously, peeking over Alfred's shoulder at the tour guide book.

“Well... I was thinking we could quietly go baby shopping?” Alfred proposed in a rush.

Ivan wore a lot of emotions, cycling through until he ended up at sad. “I... That would be ridiculous. They'll probably all be unstable or violent. You know how I feel about killing babies.”

“I'll do it big guy, I'll even bring the shotgun so they stay down. But... we could at least look. It's been a year, the only baby mutants left will be smart ones or big ones. And maybe the smart ones, are actually smart this time?” Alfred appealed again, taking one of Ivan's hands.

Ivan sighed, giving a tired look. “Fine. We'll look. But I am not doing the whole hospital, I want to make it back to the RV in one piece. It's not like we'll find anything anyway.”

Still, it was a victory. The hospital was very far from where they had parked the RV, at least in lethargic spider terms. It would be less heat stress and time wasting to go back to the bridge, splash water on themselves for cooling, and drive the RV closer.

With at least seven hours of sunlight, Alfred and Ivan did something crazy. They risked driving their treasured RV through Twin Falls directly. The town was in utter ruins, littered with long dead battle scenes. It was clear the military had tried very hard to keep the infected mutants at bay before succumbing. There was burn piles of now ashen bodies every other block. Raging fires had consumed the entirety of the south and west. Entire residential blocks were blackened and mostly destroyed. Defiantly, fresh green trees were growing in the listless waste lands. New plant life was poking out every crack and hole of the city, determined to reclaim the land.

The hospital itself was a modern sprawling design, largely unaffected by fire. It was far from suiting of the name 'Saint Luke's Magic Valley'. The once pretty architecture was a hellish battle zone frozen in time. There was still sand bag barricades with gnawed human bones behind them, guns and ammunition littered everywhere. The hospital had massive ceiling to floor windows in the two story lobby, all broken. Loose dirt and seeds were starting to blow in and take hold.

They approached the building, only whistling wind to be heard. Ivan looked to Alfred, kissing him on the cheek. They both knew it was nearly suicidal to do this. They looked at each other, a silent vow to try and survive. Never had they attempted something so dangerous, but this was for _family_. A family of their own, something to look forward to and live for everyday.

Knowing they would likely die, they walked hand in hand into the building. Only skill and fate knew if they would make it.


	13. Chapter 13

The mysterious case of Natalya Petrovna Arlovskaya went back many decades. She was born in 1959 to poor and rather miserable parents. The local Belorussian school practically raised her, noting her intelligence and competitive nature. There was many stretches of time in her files that were suspiciously clear of any details. Yet another mystery to be solved.

Her filed history seemed to magically pick up went she gained employment in a government job at the age of nineteen. It was unclear if she had a college degree, but it was likely. The job was working in blood treatment labs, looking for cancerous cells and cataloguing them. More gaps in records were encountered. The file quality was so bad not even a business name could be found, or the lab location.

There was a skip in time again, one whole year. Natalya was gravely ill, or so she told her employers. She spent months away from the lab. There was notes about the other staff being relieved over this news. Despite Natalya rapidly becoming one of the best cancer scientists in Belarus, she was an angry woman. She never played well with the other scientists. The project director found her so unbearable, they sent her alone to collect cancer samples off dead patients.

A year after her effective demotion, she was seemingly over her claimed illness. She even returned to regular work in the lab, and being less terrible to other scientists. This turn around in attitude helped her career. Five years later, she was given top level access to the project. Whatever the project was, it was never clearly stated. It was definitely related to cancer cells, but that was all anyone knew.

Not long after taking over the unknown cancer project, she was ran through extreme examinations by the soviet government. It was reveal she had a child in 1979, almost six years earlier. Natalya hid her son's existence, fearing the loss of her dream job. It was not an unusual reaction, given the rampant traditionalism of the soviet union.

The son was found to be in great comfort, with education typically higher than those of standard school children his age. Natalya's parents and her sister Ekaterina protected the boy diligently, hiding him for years. Even at the age of six, it was clear the child was as brilliant as his mother.

Natalya was immediately replaced and told to go raise her child properly from home. The lab she was fired from was blown up a week later. No evidence was ever linked to Natalya, although she was one of the many suspects. They tried to arrest her four days after the incident for questioning. She and her entire family had fled the country in record timing. They even burned their own house house down to destroy any paper trails.

The records showed nothing more until 1988. Natalya was now married to a man named Anitoli Braginsky, a dim labourer from northern Russia. Her mystery son now had a name, Ivan Anitolivich Braginsky. They registered as refugees and moved to Brooklyn in America. Ivan was now nine years old, and exceptionally smarter than other kids his age.

Once again the records were frustratingly blank until 1999. Natalya was checked into a hospital, terminally ill with a disease never seen before. Any further information prior to her death was classified. Her body was discovered missing from storage, but an investigation was never pursued. She had only been in the hospital one month.

The thin stack of yellowing papers was set down, as unsatisfactory as Ludwig expected. There was simply too much blacked out, and too many pages missing. Only pictures of her from soviet times remained, having been taken by French and American agents. There was no doubt. This enigmatic Natalya figure was a key figure in the apocalypse.

Ludwig was pulled from thought, as Kiku entered the space age office with thick files in his arms. Placing the papers on the desk, he sat. “How is research progressing Ludwig?” Kiku asked, taking a second to exchange soft glances.

“Poorly. There is too much missing... But the pictures do match. I have no doubt this is the fake doctor subjects B and C were visited by in 1995.” The blonde German reported, leaning forward.

Kiki leaned forward, accepting the note in Ludwig's hand. To anyone else it was simply passing a scrap of paper. There was rarely privacy, with the men watched every second of the day on their work spaces. Kiku read the suggestive note subtly, blushing furiously after. He nodded. Ludwig smirked as he pretended to read papers.

“My research was more productive. Subjects B and C were know to be terminal cancer cases, and they were approached by a doctor Irina Kozlova. Both subjects claimed to improve in quality of life after four months of unknown treatment, despite still testing positive for malignant cancer activity.” Kiku spoke, opening one of his own folders to display a photo.

There the mysterious Natalya was again, older and tired looking in the colour picture. All the same, it was unmistakably her. “Did you figure out what she was doing to the subjects?”

“They say she called it cell manipulation therapy. It involved immense amounts of chemical injections.” The shorter man replied, flipping through papers.

“Cell manipulation. I read... I read it here yes, those words here. But they did not make sense. It did not state what they were manipulating, only cataloguing.” Ludwig replied, pointing out the exact line.

Kiku leaned in, read the paragraph, then sat back. He tented his fingers and looked off in thought. “It couldn't be possible.”

Ludwig sat up in interest, “What couldn't be?”

“What if... she wasn't curing the cancer, she was _changing_ it. Her project was cancer oriented from the start. Nowhere in any of these files was a cure discussed.”

That was utterly impossible. Cancer was, by definition, uncontrollable. “Really?” Ludwig asked dryly.

“Subjects B and C still have cancer. But they are having no negative effects years after treatment, or viral transformation.” Kiku pointed out, tapping the files.

“Subject A does not have cancer. She was in good health prior to infection.” Ludwig countered, completely unconvinced.

“No, but she was engaged to a cancer survivor. Some man named... Ivan Braginsky. They were trying for a child, and going to marry.” At hearing this from his Japanese companion, Ludwig's eyes widened wide in surprise. It couldn't be, not this other Ivan. That would be... insane.

Rather intuitive after decades near each other, Kiku read the strict blonde's expression like a letter. He took Ludwig's thin file on doctor Arlovskaya, or Braginsky, or Kozlova. It was very confusing if you had papers mixed up. After five minutes, Kiku looked equally surprised by the discovery. To outsiders, It was just a lightly concerned frown. To the trained German commander it was an expression of horror.

“Do we have Ivan Braginsky's files?” Ludwig asked seriously.

“Not yet, but in a few days.” Kiku replied hollowly. “She experimented on her son.” he added softly after, sounding disgusted.

“Very possible, but let's confirm this with evidence.” Ludwig replied, knowing in his guarded heart this was the case. She had decades of unsupervised access to the poor child. Still, there was no pictures of this Ivan fellow anywhere. That was likely with the files being flown in from Germany. Package deliveries took a long time arrive at the secret research base, for it was in the vast Pacific ocean.

The secret couple had been in charge of plague research for six months now, accepting the positions shortly after Kiku's spectacular navy failure. It kept him off the water, but near enough he didn't go crazy.

That was honestly all Ludwig cared about. If anyone found out about their twenty year relationship, or Kiku's gradually worsening PTSD, their careers and their lives were over. So it was that the former air commander was now in charge of a isolated lab manned by socially crippled nerds. At least he could stop his Kiku from spiralling any worse, and genuinely assist in combating the Washington Virus. The German's planes had sunk over a hundred infected ships, yet it only halted the spread of death. The mutants were clearly smart enough to find more ships, and repaired old ones. A new method of battle was needed.

Putting down the papers in neat perfect stacks, Ludwig stood and stretched his chair cramped body. “We have been at this for hours. Let's take a break and see if the others are doing well.”

“Yes, a wise choice.” Kiku commended. He then mouthed the words 'follow me', facing away from the camera. Ludwig followed, knowing exactly what was going to happen. He looked forward to it immensely. They ended up in the least monitored area of the research facility, a linen closet near living quarters. It was not unusual for either man to be seen here, or together. Due to budgetary set backs, the original director's room had been converted to an ammunition storage room.

Ludwig was hardly upset when he was forced to share a room with Kiku, who was conveniently one step below him in seniority with the UN science division. The second the pair was in their tin can of a room, the door was locked.

“Just twenty minutes.” Ludwig whispered in Japanese, as he was pinned to the metal institution wall and kissed passionately.

Kiku hummed, rutting his clothed body against the blonde. The somewhat shorter man was just so hard and rough right now in every way. Ludwig stifled a low moan as he was kissed and rapidly undressed, touched and bitten. He was being completely dominated and it was _intoxicating_. In record time, Ludwig was very naked with a full body blush going.

“You're making too much noise, get on the bed.” Kiku ordered sharply in a dominant tone, tugging his lover down by the hair. Too excited to think, Ludwig trusted his every word. He gazed at his lover, blue eyes bright with affection. Obeying, he splayed himself face down on the bed. Hips up, he whined softly. The German wanted to be dominated, cuffed, spanked, fucked beyond measure. He craved order, desired it so bad his cock was hot and ready to be abused.

His wish was granted, Ludwig was blindfolded and gagged. He felt himself being handcuffed to the bed, the fur lined insides of the restraints soft on his wrists. Heart thundering, he could feel himself being stretched.

“You've been so impatient, too noisy lately.” Kiku whispered, his tone so commanding and husky. Ludwig wriggled on the two fingers inside him, breathing hard as his prostate and inner walls were brushed up against. He mentally fell apart, wanting to scream and shout in bliss. The gag reduced it to a tiny primal sound that would never escape the room.

“I didn't tell you to talk _pet_.” Kiku threatened from somewhere behind him. “Now I have to punish you twice as hard.” The fingers were gone, a massive slick butt plug or possibly a toy pushed in. Ludwig didn't know if he could even take all of it, the process beginning to hurt. Until it did fit, and it moved so wonderfully inside him. Positively melting, the blonde wanted more punishment, more and more until he couldn't walk.

That was when the spanking began. It was slow at first, but gained speed until the thing in Ludwig's ass was being jostled about. The German was so close, so close to oblivion, unable to control his own body. He could feel the coiling heat, the urge to let go building. Perfect stinging electric pleasure of each paddle strike relentless. There was no reprieve as his toy filled ass was shaken from the pressure of the hits.

Ludwig came, then came some more. Sobbing Kiku's name in pure joy, he arched and bowed in worship to his dominant partner. It was all silenced by the gag thankfully. Finally he collapsed onto the ruined bed beneath him. His gag was finally undone and removed.

Panting, Ludwig whispered “I love you Master.”

“You did good pet, but you forgot something.” The German's master motioned to his own cock, reddened and swaying as it poked partially out of it's uniform prison. Instantly Ludwig was tugging tiredly on his cuffs to near it. To suck it, hold it, service his lover, give into the other's demanding passions.

“Hold on a second, let me take the cuffs off pet.” Kiku chuckled, unlocking the furry cuffs with a key. He clearly wasn't prepared for Ludwig's ambitious devotions. The muscular paddle bruised man scrambled to his knees on the cold metal floor, pushing Kiku against the wall in his great enthusiasm. Parked between those lean pale thighs, Kiku's pants and undergarments were finally pulled out of the way.

Ludwig loved the taste of kiku, like a well earned treat. He relaxed his throat and swallowed that entire gorgeous member, a task mastered from years of training. He looked up, blue eyes silently begging for action.

Kiku's own lust darkened gaze caught his in perfect understanding. He grabbed handfuls of hair, than began thrusting into that capable sucking mouth. The ferocity of the pace hurt his throat, by Ludwig didn't care. Hearing his master struggling to control himself physically was exhilarating. It took very little time before Kiku came into him. Ludwig obediently swallowed every drop, then gasped for air. His lungs burned for oxygen, but he was just too blissful to care.

“I love you Ludwig. You're such a good boy.” Kiku mumbled shakily, looking ready to fall over. Ludwig simply lay on the spotlessly clean floor, breathing hard and physically exhausted. Kiku joined him, as they just lay there breathing and riding out the joy of the moment. The chilly metal floor felt really good on all the new bruises, so Ludwig was content to stay still and nap there.

After a time, Kiku managed to stand and partially dress. “We have to get up, it's been... forty two minutes.”

Ludwig shook his head, feeling that massive something still inside his tired behind. “I'm... too full.”

Kiku, immediately realizing what his lover was talking about, came to the rescue. He gently tugged the toy free, it's now comfortable girth sliding slowly out of Ludwig. The German sighed happily at the thing leaving him, then groaned at how horribly _empty_ he was. His entire body was lightly petted and kissed as he was helped onto the bed.

That dildo was pretty huge after all, seen as it was bundled up with all the dirty bedding. “Feel better? Think you can walk?” Kiku asked sweetly, such a good master to him.

“I can walk, but I won't be able to sit.” Ludwig admitted bashfully, leaning into touch as his head was petted.

“Okay. Pretend everything is okay two more hours, then tonight I'm going to pour you a nice bath. I had contraband bubble bath mix sneaked in just for you.” Kiku was so kind and sweet as Ludwig's trainer, the blonde couldn't be happier.


	14. Chapter 14

With slow and measured steps, Ludwig entered the southern laboratory. Most assumed he walked with steady calculated purpose. Today this was far from the case. The southern lab was where specimens A, B, and C resided since a year ago. These subjects were critical to any future research or funding. They were the original carriers of the Washington virus.

All three subjects had been overtaken by the virus ten and a half years ago. Scared they might kill loved ones, they hid themselves in countryside houses and never reentered society again. Subject A, once called Chen Yao, was so extreme in her imposed isolation that she moved to a shack in otherwise uninhabited mountains.

Ludwig joined Kiku in front of a one way observation window. Subject A was bloodied and thrashing as she was held with chains and steel bands. Her tiny white room was void of entertainment or visual relief. She had honestly lost rights to such things when she refused to work with the researchers. Now they had to take information by force.

Through long matted black hair, infuriated eyes burned with hate. The woman spat curses in Mandarin, violently fighting her bonds. Her lower spider half, as black as her hair, was locked in place with floor welded shackles.

“How long has subject A been feral?” Kiku asked, no hint of compassion for the infected captive.

“Eight days, two hours, and six minutes since her last meal. The limit before sanity loss is averaging out to seven days, ten hours.” a seated scientist replied, looking up from his papers.

Subject A was by far the most dangerous and easily angered. Every part of her was so virulent with the Washington Virus, even her breath could infect people. Scientist easily captured and studied her as early as a year ago. It was all efforts wasted. Yes, the subject was fatally infectious in every way. She had never killed anyone though. In fact, she was carrying a previous undetected strain of the Washington Virus. All the primary subjects were carrying a slightly changed variety unique to their person.

This was most enlightening news, if equally terrible. It meant they had to cook up cures unique to every single sentient mutant, a process that was not possible on this scale. This also meant the singular strain that had consumed all of North and South America was from only one source.

Who was that source? It was a billion dollar question.

Rendered useless due to this discovery, Subject A, B, and C were now used for behaviour studies of sentient mutants. While the Chinese mutant was far from helpful, the two Italians were very useful.

“Feed Subject A the drugged meat to calm her down, then try the steroid tests.” Kiku ordered, glaring hard at the screaming furious monster on the other side of the glass. The way the cold man treated these abducted people always bothered Ludwig. He certainly couldn't judge, it wasn't like he had his only daughter eaten by monsters.

All the same, there was an undeniable edge of cruelty to Kiku's supposed research methods. It was why Ludwig personally took over research with Subject B and C. They were two Italian brothers, genetic twins with little difference between them. Personality wise they were entirely different though. Subject B, once called Romano Vargas, was a dour miserable man with a love for good wine and expensive things. Subject C, once Feliciano Vargas, was a friendly fool. He was optimistic he would be set free, painting beautiful pictures of the Italian countryside.

It was determined through them that genetics and stress were the main factor. Both Italians were genetically identical, as were the virus strains they spread from merely existing. Thankfully, they were not so incurably infectious that they poisoned the very air. One could safely sit down with them at a table if they had a biohazard suit on. That was truly how complacent they were, their holding cell reflected the rewards of such behaviour.

Subjects B and C lived in absolute luxury, with a roomy full furnished cell. It even had channel television and shelves of books. Kiku often bickered over how such treatment of mutants was a monumental waste of time. Today was a rare good day, for the Japanese man was becoming increasingly paranoid and angry about this research facility.

“I will see to these subjects then join you in the northern labs.” Ludwig insisted, knowing what cruelties would otherwise follow.

“Very well Director Schmidt.” Kiku left, more pleasant than usual due to recent events.

The second he was gone, all the tension in the room left with him. It was clear most of the staff was frightened by Advisor Honda's intensity for his job. Ludwig personally found it sexy, but there was definitely times and places for such dedication. Most of the scientists here were like Subject C. They didn't really understand what was at stake, friendly yet easily frightened.

The German sighed and walked over to Subject A's cell. He pitied this savage creature, driven insane by prodding and experiments. Bloodied, thin, dehydrated, and some parts sewn back on. She was barely alive after the last starvation experiment. There wasn't even anything to learn from a person this far gone. Kiku was going much to far now, and needed to be talked to.

“Cancel the steroid trials.” Ludwig spoke with steadfast seriousness.

“Director Schmidt, Advisor Honda said –”

“I am _director_ , and I am directing you to do your job.” Ludwig threatened angrily in German. The lesser man wilted and obeyed, shrinking in his office chair. “Good. Now triple the sedative dose in the meat.”

“That will kill Subject A.”

“That will kill _Chen Yao_ , who used to be a human being. After what we have done to her, death will be a kindness.” Ludwig ordered once more.

“Done sir. Advisor Honda will be very unhappy.”

Ludwig knew this, but his lover wouldn't discover the betrayal for at least a few days. A few more sweet days of serenity with his partner of many years. “Lie then. Make it convincing.”

Leaving the overwhelmed desk worker to his own problems, Ludwig walked over to the other cell. “How is sensory testing going?”

“Subjects B and C do not appear to be colour blind, or limited in any other way. Their memory recall is now being tested.” This was true, the two brothers were engrossed in puzzles while lounging on web hammocks in the corners. This lounging behaviour was always nice to see, and rare among subjects. Ludwig suspected it was behaviour based on joy or general contentment, but he couldn't be sure.

“Good. I will report back in a few days.” He replied, looking to all four scientists in the room as they typed notes or did blood work at lab tables. A few smiled at the positive reinforcement, clearly preferring his company over Kiku's. With that, the project director walked out. Now he had to go deal with the northern laboratory.

Ludwig admittedly wasn't prepared for the inhumanity of that place. When he first arrived to relieve Director Wagner of his position for land leave, everything seemed refreshingly moral and above board. Naturally, It wasn't. He had just inherited a slice of hell, and Ludwig was not pleased.

The northern wing of the facility was were German convicts were used as testing material, typically injected with viruses. They were injected then run though a gauntlet of typically fatal tests. Tests too harsh for Subject A. Tests too harsh for _animals_.

Taking a deep breathe before the red vault doors, Ludwig steeled himself and swiped the key card identifier. The thick door slid open to a chorus of screams. It was an unholy sound, the screaming and begging of doomed people. Putting on sound cancelling headphones, The sight of the place was even worse than the noise.

Rows of men trapped in tiny airtight prison cells, all in the process of transforming or being infected. The ones that survived were wet with unknown chemicals or subjected to sharp changes in environment. Afterwards, the victims were incinerated to dust in the very chamber they were infected. The cells were rarely tended to, dowsed with cleaning products from the ceiling nozzles instead. Ludwig rushed to the control tower, a high up windowed room overlooking all the prisoner pods.

Only here did the screaming stop, due to excellent office sound proofing. “Director Schmidt. What's the pleasure of this visit.?” a guard greeted, standing to salute.

Ludwig rolled his eyes, for it was done wrong every time. “Have any new discoveries been noted?” he asked, keen to leave this terrible place.

“A report from the eggheads downstairs, sir.” The guard replied, handing a few pages to him.

“Thank you. Where is Advisor Honda?”

“Downstairs in the workshop.”

Oh god... The workshop. It was the lower floor of the northern labs. It was a place of death and invention, where all the terrible ideas used on prisoners had been decided. The walls were lined with surgery observation windows and implements of pain. It was the second most armed area of the research facility. If the prisoner cells area malfunctioned, the scientists would be safe and cut off from their own monsters. It had been months since Ludwig personally participated in anything down there, and three weeks since he had visited at all. His conscience honestly wouldn't allow more frequency.

Still, Ludwig was the leader of this awful place. He had to at least do his job a little. Putting his sound blocking headphones back on, Ivan waded through prison cell hell to a sealed vault door at the back of the place. Looking as little as possible at the rows of sealed boxes around him, the blonde German swiped the access card and headed down a long turret guarded set of stairs. The machine ran guns tracked him as a target but didn't fire. Ludwig had been implanted with a identification chip the day he arrived. It stopped the automatic defences from filling every scientist full of more holes than Swiss cheese.

The workshop was still as creepy as ever. The grotesque tools still hung off the wall, and there was a live surgery on a mutant taking place. Three scientists and Kiku were taking notes with rapt attention as the poor bastard was being neatly sliced up. Headphones now off as both vault doors behind sealed shut, the screaming from upstairs was now a dull indifferent sound.

Ludwig was unable to look at the thing being chopped up, knowing it was a baby mutant. The facility was obsessed with them. Infecting a single man with the Washington virus had a twenty percent chance of successful transformation and you only got one live subject out of the deal. This essentially meant you spent five regular men of resources over three weeks, to get only one fresh mutant.

Four months ago those oblivious _morons_ from the 'American Adventures' web series had announced expanding their 'family'. They even showed footage of crawling through godforsaken infected hospitals, plucking baby mutants like cherries from the septic and dying environments. They didn't know the hundreds of corpses in maternity wards were not all doomed former mothers. They didn't know _anything_.

Now the secret research facility was plowing well ahead of schedule, on the bloody tides of mutilated babies. If you infected a female convict, she typically had a twenty five percent chance of surviving transformation. There was simply something unknown about female biology that made them more likely to live. The boys were unfortunately hard at work trying to crack that mystery. Either way, it was only four people worth of food over three weeks to obtain a new test mutant.

If the female convict was notably fat or even obese, she had up to a fifty percent chance of properly changing. This was even more darkly economical than before. Beyond this point, all human morals went out the window.

If a pregnant convict was infected, she was guaranteed to die. The fetus inside seemed to take in all the infection like a sponge. It always divided and changed, unless it was the last trimester. In those cases, both the mother and unborn child simply perished from over taxed immune systems. If infected early enough, The mutants would change and eventually eat their way out of the mother after four months. There was never less than four baby mutants at a time, ever.

At first, The UN science division was horrified by such a suggestion. Ludwig was the very same. Previous to this point, he was able to stomach this job because the high pay and a few facts. Previously, all trials had been run on terrible human beings. Rapists, arsonists, murderers, and people guilty for billions in fraud. Being subjected to this horror show was a direct result of their actions. In this mentality, Ludwig could sleep just fine at night. What he was conducting here was not exactly... _good_ , but it was lawful and helpful to humanity. Less criminals to pollute society, supposedly.

Everything was fine, in relative terms, until that damned video online. Ludwig used to have full permission to shut down any especially unethical trials, until the UN changed it's mind. Projects previously reserved for the savage Subject A were broaden and intensified. The prisoners being shipped in were still half male for quality control, but the other half were typically overweight females or pregnant. It seemed the sheer resource savings of mutilating children was up to five times more efficient than grown males.

Ludwig had never thought the soul of the UN science division could be bought in infant's blood.

Feigning a stony expression that fooled even Kiku, he approached the group watching the baby dissections. One of the lesser scientists noticed and greeted his superior. “Hello sir, nice to see you!”

“Dr. Robbins. I've come to personally inspect your station. I also have questions about your previous two reports.” Ludwig greeted coolly.

“Oh of course Director Schmidt. I was mostly watching the trial anyway.” the other man replied casually as he strolled to his personal desk. The fact that he was treating this living horror show like another episode on the TV was enough to make Ludwig cringe. He barely masked this natural reaction.

Ludwig didn't actually care or read about the last two reports sent. He had lesser goons for that. Further more, he didn't really want to know how those 'productive' results had been acquired. Instead he asked random questions to keep Dr. Robbins off his feet mentally. Trying to find a moral pulse, as it were, and gauge exactly what the hell was going on down here.

Director Schmidt was more disappointed that he expected, and slightly sick to his stomach. “Thank you for your time. You may resume your work.” he bid good bye, leaving with slow careful steps. Still feeling gingerly sore from earlier, he retreated the rest of the evening to his sleeping quarters. Mostly he spent time puking from anxiety in the bathroom and struggling not to cry.

Ludwig was definitely going to hell, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not represent the United Nations, nor know of anyone that does. The actual UN has no relation to this fictional story. These events are fictional, and do not take place in the real world. Please due not sue me.


	15. Chapter 15

“One little button nose!” Alfred cooed, feeding dried deer meat cubes. The baby accepted it with giggling glee, a great big #1 on her bib. Or his bib. Alfred was actually a little ashamed of his entomologist skills. He was unable to tell the genders of all eight babies they had rescued.

“Two little button nose!” Alfred went on, feeding another, and another. Each little one was given a decent size cube they would gnaw on for at least few minutes. It stopped all fighting if they were too distracted.

After baby #7, #8 was no where to be seen. Alfred almost whipped himself into a panic, until he found the rascal hanging upside down and being a goof ball in the RV. “There you go silly. Eat.” he talked to the baby, putting it outside. With all of them eating, Alfred had a moment to watch and enjoy.

Each young mutant was the same design as Ivan and Alfred, healthy and symmetrical. There was an even split between fuzzy lumbering bodies and the trim jumpy variety. The babies were varying skin tones and had crazy untrimmed hair. All their spidery or chitinous parts were usually complementary to the hair and skin colours.

They had never intended to pick up so many, but Ivan insisted in the beginning. Unlike standard mutants, the sentient babies were apt to hide in hollow corpses, boxes, or behind furniture. It make exploring hospitals as simple as shooting the vanguard then sifting through long dead ruins. Ivan's parental mode was dialed to maximum. He suddenly wanted to visit every maternity ward everywhere.

Only after having to kill several feral babies, did the crazy ash blonde stop. All the begging appeals from Alfred started sinking in as well. It was an enormous effort to feed the little bundles of teeth and cuddles.

The most unique parenting challenges arose immediately. The babies were wild when they were found, and often under three kilograms and two thirds the size of a normal baby. Far from defenceless, it took weeks of training to stop them from eating anything soft. They absolutely ignored naming conventions, responding to nothing at all. Training them to go in a poop bucket was almost insanity inducing. But with a small loss in mental health, all eight critters were poop trained, and stopped chewing everything.

Exhausted and burning through gasoline like crazy, the couple finally caved to the truth. They could not afford to feed an electrical generator, and be driving around so much. They also didn't have the energy to care for eight rapidly growing kids, and run a TV show. Roughly a month after acquiring the babies, Alfred was ready to drop from exhaustion.

So it was after 42 episodes, 'American Adventures' had it's last hurrah. The episode was a simple thing, lasting an hour instead of twenty minutes. Alfred and Ivan explained their reasons for ending the show. They had a nice recap of all the prettiest places they had visited. The last episode was even finished with a very sweet but simple wedding by a picturesque lake, recorded for the world to see.

Alfred jokingly announced Ivan as the president of the United States of America at the end. His spoken reasoning of “No one is stopping him, so it's a thing now.” was about as legal as the two man wedding performed earlier.

It was now four months since they found their large family. Settled and content, they lived in Olympic national park not far from the Washington coast. On a massive campsite of society past, there was three long trailers arranged into a U shape. They were modified and reinforced with steel plating on the outside boundary. The otherwise easy to corrode metal was waterproofed in clean white siding.

This formed a tight box like fortress around their home one story high. In this fashion, they had a highly protected inner court yard where the children could play. One trailer was a group sleeping place, limiting the heater's job to do to one tiny area. The middle trailer was food drying, preservation, and daily meal preparation. The trailer opposite the sleeping area housed the generator and battery storage for the solar panels. It was also an utilities workshop, heavily grounded and sound proofed.

The newest building was a 'presidential' chicken coop beside the kitchen area. It was a small thing, barely taking up room. Alfred was actually still in the process of painting it red white and blue. He had mostly taken a break to watch the largely non verbal kids goof around in the courtyard. Ivan was drying meat into jerky inside, while Alfred procrastinated. Working _sucked_.

Instead, he lay on the ground belly down and let the children crawl all over. Half settled for cuddling him, while the other half skittered around him in a bid to race each other. They all wore little sweaters Ivan had knitted for them. Alfred mostly wore Ivan's clothes, because they smelt so nice. Still, there was a nip in the air.

With Ivan incurably homesick for his old town, Alfred was tolerating living in a northern state. He had never really lived through a winter where it snowed before. He didn't know what to expect, and even this early autumn air was too chilly for his tastes.

Looking out the screen door, Ivan chuckled. “Hard at work I see.”

“I'm busy bonding with the kids. Very high energy task.” Alfred replied sleepily, resting his face on folded arms.

“I need you for a moment, Fedya.”

Yawning, Alfred obeyed. Two of the kids were too lazy to move, and hitched a ride on their parent's spider abdomen. “What is it Ivy?” He asked, poking his head into the kitchen trailer. They had recently discovered and raided a crazy person's house that was stuffed with canned food and empty mason jars.

“I just finished off the last of the large mason jars. So we have... 210 small jars of food, and all the canned stuff we found. I don't know, maybe 90 large jars. Do you think it's enough for the winter?” Ivan asked anxiously, looking ready to fall over from exhaustion.

“Babe, babe, you gotta rest. We can do more tomorrow.” Alfred hushed, pulling him into a hug. They just stood and held each other the longest time. These last two months had been frenetic activity, with a never ending to do list.

Carpentry, welding, painting, hunting, fishing, clearing brush, foraging in the forest, keeping the access roads clear, killing mutants too close to the house, keeping natural predators away... Alfred honestly couldn't remember the last time he had slept more than six hours. Ivan was in a similar state, trying to squish a year of seasonal preparation into three months. After all, in three months, most of the animals would migrate away or hibernate.

“I can't. I can't, I still have to –” Ivan's running mind was shut down with a soft kiss, then another. More and more. They both looked at each other, tempting whispers of lust in the air. Both adults then burst into laughter. “Fedya, we are too tired for our usual games.”

“Agreed.” Alfred sagged against his partner lazily, who did the same.

“Okay. I'll take one nap. Then we have to gather more wood and store it by the utility trailer.” Ivan proposed ambitiously. Alfred had no expectation of any of that happening, but didn't feel like arguing. In the resting trailer, they curled up back to back on their private web. All eight little ones clumped around them, equally drained by the increasing cold.

Ivan already snored in sleep minutes later, all the children breathing softly with him. Encased in cuddles and body heat, Alfred thought about random things. After the BBC exposure, thirty two million people were watching 'American Adventures'. Still, not another spider-person like them had ever been seen. Even an e-mail, anything, just to confirm they weren't alone... The thought remained unfinished as Alfred fell asleep.

Was anyone out there at all?


	16. Chapter 16

It was early in the morning, even earlier than the cleaners. Ludwig sat in his office with a bottle of whisky and a frown. His face was weary with dark bags of sleeplessness. It had taken Kiku a week to notice Subject A was dead, and he fumed for a fortnight over it. No cuddles or sex, just silent buried rage at his unknown objectives being obstructed.

Ludwig didn't want to go to the bedroom yet, for it was a violent sea of untold feelings between the two men. Glancing up at the clock it was almost four in the morning. With two hours before Kiku would wake from his deep sleep, the German had two hours to sneak in and grab anything he needed. No, Ludwig would be brave.

Putting the cap back on the whisky bottle, he stowed it away in drawer and left the office. With as much grace as Ludwig could summon in his sleep deprived state, he walked to the eastern residential wing of the research base. The sleek metal door opened outward silently, but the light in the room was already on. Kiku was awake, dressed, and waiting for Ludwig's return it seemed.

'We need to talk' Kiku spoke in German sign language, acutely aware there was listening devices around.

'Yes, we do. But not when you're so angry.' Ludwig signed back as he entered the room, already knowing the encounter wouldn't end well.

'No. We need to talk now. You're avoiding me. You deny me access to Subject B and C. Why are you doing this.'

'I'm avoiding you because you lost your temper over killing Subject A. B and C are already in use.' Ludwig closed the door with a soft click, then looked back to Kiku for communications.

'Making those monsters solve math puzzles is stupid and pointless. We need to examine the brain directly.'

'Don't you have enough heads to cut open in the workshop?' the signed statement was unusually snarky for a language without sound. Ludwig was surprised he had it in him to sign back to his sexual master so boldly.

'Is that an accusation of something?' Kiku responded, face starting to twist into a snarl.

No, no, no... Ludwig wanted to avoid this precise conversation. However, he was an honest military man and project director first. 'It's a statement, Kiku. You don't need to kill subject B and C. Because You will kill them if I let you. You tortured Subject A for four months and learned nothing. She died after you starved her. What possible scientific trial could be learned from that?'

'Lot's of things.' Kiku signed, his temper starting to show in sloppy gestures.

'The only thing it shows is how much you hated Subject A. She didn't eat your daughter. Subject A deserved some dignity.' Ludwig signed, hiding his heart with cold responses.

“You!” Kiku dropped his loud outburst to a whisper, “You have no right to talk about my Atsuko. She was an angel, and those monsters took her away. They don't deserve to live, and I don't understand why you keep defending them!”

“Atsuko wouldn't want you torturing people we injected with god knows what!” Ludwig hissed back in argument.

“God has nothing to do with this, and I'm tired of you bringing up your damn faith every time we run a new trial. They aren't human anymore. They don't have rights. The second I figure out how to kill every single one of those cursed creatures, _I will_.” The hatred and burning vengeance finally showed it's true intent, a poison of sounds spoken by a once noble man. To hear such jagged peaks of emotion and violence from a normally balanced Kiku was quite scary.

“Your daughter would be so disappointed. I'm disappointed.” Ludwig muttered, becoming angry himself. This wasn't the man he fell in love with beneath the cherry blossoms, not today. A sharp slap came out of nowhere and hit Ludwig in the face. It stung slightly, but the emotional implications were staggering. Kiku and him never fought like this before. They had never struck each other in anything but passion before.

Kiku backed away wide eyed in shock, looking at his hands. He then looked up at Ludwig. “I didn't mean... I didn't mean to, I...” 

Frustration at not being listened to. Anger at the sheer loss of human life. Disgust at Kiku's childish behaviour. Terror of what they were doing for the pursuit of science. It all burst at this one moment in a perfect punch. Ludwig's fist struck Kiku in the gut of it's own accord. The Japanese man reeled as he gasped painfully for air.

“You will never hit me like that again. You will never _touch_ me. I'm no longer your pet.” Ludwig threatened. Someone was sure to hear, but the blonde was too upset to care right now. He fished a gold necklace of ownership from under his work shirt, snapping the thin chain off with a sharp tug. Flinging it at Kiku, Ludwig glared. “You will move into the barracks with the other men tonight.”

“I didn't mean to. I lost my temper and I'm sorry.” Kiku apologized, seeming to finally realize just how far he had pushed his typically submissive partner these past months.

“ _I didn't give you permission to speak._ ” Ludwig commanded in his powerful drill sergeant voice.

At this Advisor Honda silenced and stared at the floor. “I'll be in my office. I do not wish to be disturbed unless it's urgent.” Ludwig spoke sharply, grabbing a few things as he left. Wisely, Kiku said nothing.

After ten minutes of struggling not to cry in his office, Ludwig managed to pull his dry eyed self back together. The one vow Kiku had sworn to never break, to always treat Ludwig well. To never strike him in anger, to protect his heart from shattering. The vow was eighteen years old, but it was broken all the same. Their trust, a secret bond, was violated and Ludwig didn't know how to handle it.

Instead, he took a few more shots of liquid courage and buried himself in work. Finally, after three weeks of immense government ineptitude, the file on Ivan Braginsky had arrived. Some fools had the nerve to misplace it at not one, but two airports.

The file was thin, but thankfully not as thin as Natalya Arvloskaya's file. It matched up time wise in every way as well. Ivan Anitolivich Braginksy magically appeared in records around 1988, exactly when Natalya fled the USSR with her family. Nine years old at the time of refugee registry, there was finally some visuals on this kid.

The photo showed a typical Slav child, unsmiling as he stood beside his mother and Aunt Ekaterina. It was startlingly obvious how healthy he was, while his family looked thin and tired. Ludwig could easily imagine the family scraping portions of their dinner together, keeping the undocumented child alive years prior.

Ivan seemed to be a happy healthy child in Brooklyn, getting nothing but good comments from teachers. He loved spiders, seen in several science fair pictures with a tarantula in his hands. As the child aged in pictures, he seemed almost... familiar to Ludwig. That was certainly curious.

In 1993, just shy of his 15th birthday, Ivan became gravely ill. He had brain cancer, and no one had caught it in time. The doctors had nothing good to say about the situation, marking the boy as good as dead in medical terms. Natalya had been furious at them.

After a sudden move to Washington, Ivan vanished for five months. He reentered the public, healthy and energetic. Medical check ups showed absolutely no side effects of cancer, despite the blood tests confirming the cancer still being active. Additional, the boy was flooded with unknown biological proteins. The child claimed his mother had “cured him with big needles”. The clinic they checked into didn't have a great reputation, so the tests were declared fraudulent. New ones were ordered to be taken at a more advanced hospital.

Once more Natalya pulled a vanishing act, telling her son she was 'leaving to help other sick children'. Ivan seemed happy about the news at the time. With the grandparents, aunt, and adoptive father all protecting Ivan from hospital inquiries, the blood testing never proceeded.

Natalya was spotted but never caught in the Washington DC area, known to leave international gifts for her child. By the time she died in 1999 of very questionable methods, Ivan was 21 years old. He was almost done college and already trading stocks like a pro.

He briefly dated an accountant named Toris but the two men broke up after only four months. Toris strangely vanished one year later, only for a bug infested corpse to turn up in a park. Ivan was suspected to have murdered him, but no evidence was ever found.

His aunt and adoptive father also ended up as bug infested corpses less than a month after Toris. Once again, there was not enough evidence to convict him of murder. In-depth psychological testing revealed he was unlikely to be a murderer at all, unaware his family was dead until they showed the pictures. Ivan had simply assumed they left on vacation, just as they said they would.

Three years after Toris, Ivan met Chen Yao, a brilliant financial manager. Like before, things didn't last. After a rather public engagement party, Chen fled back to China as fast as she could. She too vanished. Ludwig knew very well what happened to her after.

From what the file had to say, it seemed Ivan kept to himself after that. Without warning, he too disappeared from the public in 2009. Subject B and C had done the exact same thing, at the same time. The bottom of the file was crumpled and messy, several photos out of order from rough handling. Curse those plebeian airport _idiots_. Each photo was glanced at quickly.

Teen Ivan riddled in needle marks while wearing a paper hospital gown. Child Ivan dressed up as a spider for Halloween. Adult Ivan in a profile photo, wearing a suit and tie... Adult Ivan... He was someone Ludwig had met before, seen, or maybe heard. Then it all came crashing back to him, that web show 'American Adventures.'

Ludwig had been wrapped up in research and keeping Kiku in line. As a result, the busy blonde had not seen a new episode at all. Watching the last four episodes of 'American Adventures', new details were jumping out everywhere. Ivan the camera guy was Ivan Braginsky. The entire world had been watching the cause of the apocalypse explore his own ruins.

The Director honestly had no idea what to do anymore. This research lab had a way of twisting your moral compass until you didn't know which way was up. Ludwig often found himself laying awake at night, wondering if he had done goodwill that day. Did he even have the right, the knowledge of what “good” was?

They could capture Ivan, studying him and learning about his biological functions... until he was dissected in the northern laboratory. Or, they could visit Ivan directly in the fallen USA... where the German, Russian, and French military would definitely kill Ivan and his new family. There was simply no clean way to deal with this bizarre situation.

If only those oblivious happy mutants didn't broadcast their existence for the entire planet to see. They could have lived happily, quietly, with their spider brood. There was likely no one left to be killed by the Washington virus in all of North America, with South America not far behind. There was honestly no harm in letting Ivan exist in an environment of his own creation. The guy couldn't travel far. Any boat or plane he tried to ride out would be decimated.

Ludwig had a spark of an idea. He could... misplace Ivan's file. The spark grew to a small flame, then more. So much more. Even simpler and easier, only the adult and teen pictures could vanish. No one would ever draw the visual connection around here, no one would figure it out. The UN would continue to waste funds researching ways to kill the mutants en masse. Kiku could continue being a monster and chopping up convicts, and Ludwig would finally leave in four months. 

No one too important was hurt, Ludwig's service record wasn't ruined, and he would never have to participate in this terrible crime of a project again. Inactivity was the most efficient and safe plan here for once. Smiling, he pulled all the photos out of Ivan's file and tossed them in the same drawer as his whisky bottle. Locking it shut again, he couldn't help but feel good inside about this.

In this endless world of turmoil and suffering, at least Ivan and his cute family could be happy. They could really live and experience the small joys of everyday. This cursed institute would eventually fail, and the world would be better for it. It's processes were simply too blunt and terrible to extract further information.

With a new strategy to alleviate Ludwig's once burning conscience, the German only had to focus on repairing his broken heart. He still had to pretend to do his job, but that was incredibly easy. It was so easy, Ludwig found himself with nothing to do for hours each day. It was all time he used to devote to the project or watching Kiku's emotional control.

Inspired by his first truly noble deed in six months, Ludwig started messing around with the computer systems. Aside from a stellar flying career and love for sniper work, he was a very skilled mechanic. With such life skills at his disposal, the German could manage most computer systems.

Two weeks into his new easy-mode life, it was obvious there was something wrong with the ventilation system. There was a report logged 28 days earlier that one of the scientist's rooms 'smelt funny'. One of five mechanics had checked out the complaint, listing the order as completed.

The same complaint was made two days later, but the other mechanics didn't take it seriously. After all, one of their 'best' had already gone around and tended to things. The resident scientist, a Hector Krause, stopped complaining. He had called in sick last week, but yet to return. The man was well over his four day holiday allowance per month.

Someone not working on Ludwig's watch? Unforgivable! Even if all they did was sit there and press buttons, it would be an improvement over nothing at all. Sitting around and pushing buttons was all Ludwig did after all. Marching off to the lazy scientist's barracks, the blonde bumped into none other than Kiku.

“Hello.” Kiku greeted, looking lost and desperate in the dark of his brown eyes.

“Good day.” Ludwig greeted coolly, slipping past. He didn't have time for this emotional manipulation, still angry at his now ex-lover. He simply couldn't think of a way Kiku would earn his trust, not in this state. Ever since dear Atsuko had died, Hiku was a completely changed person.

“Maybe I'll see you in northern labs?” the Japanese man asked softly.

Ludwig didn't even turn around or stop, German accent sharp edged with cruelty. “Perhaps.” They both knew this meant no.

Entering the residential wing, Ludwig could smell it again. It was the most faint scent, like bitter earth and basil. Everyone had noticed it at some point, but ignored it. All the tasty smells from the mess hall had a tendency to circulate through most of the base. You could tell what was going to be on the menu an hour ahead of time if it was particularly garlic or spice infused.

Approaching the sleeping room of Hector Krause, the earthy basil smell was grower stronger. The door was unlocked, but Ludwig knocked anyway just as his mother had raised him to.

“What?” a stranger on the other side responded.

“This is Director Schmidt. Where is Hector Krause?”

There was a scuffling of boots, and muffled cursing. A minute later, the door opened. A pale and sickly man wore a paper mask over his mouth, avoiding touching Ludwig. The blonde appreciated the hygienic gesture. “Mr. Krause is unable to visit you sir. He's busy puking in the bathroom across the hall.”

“I appreciate your honestly. You also appear to be ill.”

“We both came back from medical. They said it's probably a cold. I'll be back on my feet in no time sir.” the clearly unhealthy man insisted.

“Good. I need to speak with Hector.” Ludwig replied, not be be deterred.

“He's not the most presentable right now.”

“I am your boss's boss, and you will show me to him.” Ludwig threatened.

“Of course, yes... right this way!” the lesser scientist quivered, going across the hall. He knocked on one of four public bathrooms for this area. “Hector?”

“Go away!” someone weakly groaned.

“It's um... Director Schmidt with me. He wants to see you.”

“ _Fuck_... I mean. Uh, just one minute sir...”

“Enough of this!” Ludwig swiped his ID card, opening the door anyway. A man was hunched over a toilet weakly as he tried to flush it. The water had yet to refill in the back tank, giving Ludwig a good look at whatever Mr. Krause was trying to hide. The vomit in the toilet was black, glistening pure black. Ludwig recoiled in horror, knowing exactly what was going on. Mr. Krause was a dead man walking.

“You will go to medical and request to be isolated in an antibacterial chamber immediately.” 

“Sir I can't.” the other protested.

“You will, or have your service record ruined with reports of insubordination.”

“I can't because the cleaner chambers are full. Sir, please don't report me!” The man begged. He then paled and had to sit while holding himself tightly, as if his guts might fall out.

Ludwig narrowed his blue gaze. “Very well. Remain isolated and take your assigned medications.” Not that the drugs would do anything. How could Mr. Krause possibly have been infected with the Washington virus? There was precautions, double layered glass, and state of the art filter systems. There was rubber gloves and sanitation stations absolutely everywhere. How had the base been compromised?

Knowing very well this might be his last nice meal, Ludwig went to the mess hall in the eastern area. Today was meat loaf with coleslaw and grilled corn. Even here, bitter basil was in the air. It was actually familiar, but he was having a hell of a time placing where he had encountered it before. Sliding his metal tray along the series of open serving windows, several familiar faces greeted him.

“Hello Director Schmidt.” the main chef, Tino, welcomed him. No one on board could pronounce or spell his last name, despite 19 of the 24 crew being very German.

“Hello Tino. Nice day... Are you making Italian?”

“No, but you're not the first man to ask that. We don't even have basil left. There will be a lot of salted fish in the crew's future, Mr. Schmidt.” The jolly Finnish chef replied, serving a nice hunk of meat loaf just for the director. “Gravy for that?”

“Yes, thank you... Has anyone become sick?”

“One of my sous chefs. It is a cold, or maybe stomach virus going around. It's probably nothing.”

“Of course.” Ludwig replied politely, leaving to find a seat. The meat loaf was sublime, as was the rest of the meal. He savoured every part of it, knowing today very well might be the last good day. The protocol for the base becoming infected was quite extreme.

Still, there was one way to rescue this base from oblivion. Stop the source of infection, hope to dear god it was only one strain, and kill anyone they couldn't inoculate in time. With a real job to do, Ludwig did the full rounds. He swept every department, beginning to scrutinize the very walls. After two days of this, Ludwig was starting to despair. The entire base including him would have to die. Five more people were already calling in sick.

In the southern labs, it was three in the morning. Ludwig was trying his best to root out the infection source and save at least some of the crew, with no success. Subject B and C looked bored out of their minds as they bounced a rubber ball off the observational window. He watched them, watching him watching them.

It was in this silent moment that Ludwig finally noticed something. Inside their cell, the vent in the ceiling was wrong somehow. The double glass made it hard to figure out why. Curious, he went to suit up and investigate. In a biological hazard suit, Ludwig entered the airlock protected cell with a stepladder. The angry Subject B flipped a middle finger at him, then bounced the rubber ball off the window some more.

Subject C was more of an optimist. 'Hello' he greeted in written German, the letters poorly formed. The smiling brunette looking so happy just to have visitors.

Taking the crayon, Ludwig wrote 'Hello.' on the paper. Conversations were long and simple in this way, as Subject C flipped through an Italian to German dictionary.

'Why Here?'

'Fix vent.'

'Vent no work. Vent broken.' 

Ludwig figured as much, setting up the step ladder. He reached up to inspect the vent cover... but it fell off. That was not good. It seemed someone had copped out for cheap plastic vent facing, then screwed it on so hard the cover cracked. Ludwig flipped it over, reading 'Made in China'. It was only natural Ludwig decided to use the one testing chamber with a hole in it. He had submitted a complaint about the old plastic vent cover having a crack in it some time ago. The German simply assumed the repair was executed with proper consideration.

This incompetence aside, the air in here shouldn't have leaked out there. There was still a layer of filters directly in the vents themselves. Ludwig dropped the plastic cover and felt around in the hole. The tips of the rubber gloves faintly traced over smooth unbroken microbial filter papers. Until several holes were detected.

Taking a flashlight off his belt, Ludwig didn't care if a small puff of earthen basil air got in his suit. He had been inhaling contaminants for weeks and not realizing it anyway. Without a doubt, he was infected too. The small flashlight illuminated the reason everyone had to die now. Mice had chewed holes in the filters to make a nest.

Ludwig had never expected the humble mouse would kill 24 people. Oh, why even bother trying in a “state of the art” facility if they were going to go cheap on air filter covers. Those were literally the one thing stopping all hell from breaking loose.

Climbing off the stepladder, Ludwig groaned and sat on a stool provided in the cell. Subject C sat next to him with a fresh paper, 'Sad?' written on it.

'Yes.' Ludwig wrote back.

'Why?'

'Everyone has to die now.' the Italian was confused by a few words, so Ludwig had to dumb it down. 'All die. All infected.'

There was a moment of watching the man-spider flip through dictionary pages, then an expression of horror. He spoke in spitfire Italian to his twin brother, who stopped bouncing the ball off the window. They argued in animate fashion, like most Italians do, then faced Ludwig.

'No kill us. We good. Not crazy.' Subject B wrote slowly. This was a first for him communicating at all, which really showed how much they grasped the situation.

'Yes. Good. Army burns all infected. All infected. Vent infected.'

'Army no care.'

Ludwig took off his pointless hazard suit hat as a show of faith, and nodded to affirm that statement. The scent was strong here as well, a more powerful version of most offices. This was potentially a stupid and risky thing to do, but he didn't much care. The UN would torch this place to the water, repaint it, and simply continue where they left off research wise. Ludwig was already dead as it was.

The twin brother mutants paced a little, upset and babbling to each other again. Finally, Subject C started writing again. 'Save us.'

Ludwig read the message and frowned. 'I infected. I die soon.'

'No. We save you. You save us.' the note they wrote was confusing and strange. Ludwig leaned in a little, to write a response. He sensed movement to the right, then saw shadows of Subject B ambushing. Ludwig lurched forward to dodge, only to trip on a thin line of spider silk. Subject C caught him as he fell, immediately sinking long fangs through the suit. The teeth tore through shirt, biting hard into scarred shoulder. Ludwig screamed and kicked, flinging the bastard off.

Ludwig was a noteworthy soldier, but not a perfect one. They were grouping up on him, getting two more bites in after a minute of struggle. Whatever poison they had inflicted was incredibly effective, the room spinning and wobbling. He fell to his knees, unable to keep his centre of mass so high.

“Wha are you... Why...” He mumbled, brain growing fuzzy. Finally, Ludwig sank to the ground and blacked out.


	17. Chapter 17

It had been 18 days since that strange radio transmission. The live radio Alfred and Ivan played with to pass the time was typically silent fuzz or screams of terror from Brazil. It seemed South America was under siege from the virus and not faring well. After five minutes of hearing of begging on the radio, Ivan was typically done for the evening. Alfred couldn't blame him. To cheer up the ash blonde, Alfred tried playing around with German military frequencies.

“No, Fedya, I'm done. I don't want to listen to troop movement for twenty minutes.” Ivan dismissed, starting to pull his snow suit back on. Seeing as there was eight separate legs, the back part, then a coat and mittens, Alfred had at least five minutes to make his case.

“But I heard something 18 days ago. I know I did!”

“Really, then what did they say?” Ivan had always been such a disbeliever since the fall of human society.

“I don't know, it was in German.”

“I'm going to read to the kids and you can have fun with your imaginary radio friends.”

“Babe please! I think they were trying to to talk to me.”

“I sincerely doubt people on a military channel want to talk to –” Ivan's snide response was cut off by a fuzzy human voice from the radio. It was a cautious voice, almost incomprehensible in it's Germanic accent. All the same, it was English.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”

Ivan dropped his mittens in shock, while Alfred grabbed the microphone and pressed the button to talk. “Who is this?”

“I am Gilbert the awesome, leader of the spider gang.” The accent was just _so_ thick.

“A... A spider gang.” Ivan responded this time, not believing it.

“Yes. We escaped a crazy sea base and seek refuge. We want to meet the great spider President. He is in Washington, yes?”

“This zone is very infected. It is not safe for humans.” Alfred warned.

“Do you know where the spider president is?”

Alfred puffed his chest out proudly as he talked. “I'm his personal advisor, speaking from the official presidential radio of amazingness.” This was indeed the radio's official title, as shown by a label maker looted from a store. Everything was labelled in this way, from the 'Presidential Ice Box' to the 'Chicken Coop of Patriotism.'

“We are two days from Washington City. We want to arrange a meeting.”

“Washington City is not safe. Go to Port Angeles.” Alfred's urged. Having the first people in almost two years get eaten would be terrible. “How are you getting here?”

“Boat.”

“How many people?” Ivan asked, half dressed to leave and not progressing much further.

“Seven... hundred and twenty eight. Ja. About that much. Is a very big boat.”

Ivan and Alfred just stood there not knowing what to say. Was this even real, was it all a joke? Was this really all infected mutants as this 'Gilbert' was implying? “I don't think I heard you right... How many again?”

“Seven hundred and twenty eight.”

“And all of you are spider-people?”

“Ja, all ages. Little spiders. Old spiders. Awesome spiders. I am the most awesome spider.” This man's ego was even more outrageous than his story.

The conversation didn't last much longer than this, since most of the solar power energy stored was used up. This left two adults with stunned expressions in the dark. Alfred lit a candle, setting the holder down so they could both dress. Winter was a harsh mistress to creatures barely able to maintain body heat.

The 'snow suits' were a rag-tag series of layers, all scavenged from clothing department stores. All the clothes were chopped up and reformed into leg covers, abdomen slips, and longer coats. While Ivan was a talented weaver, he was lousy seamstress. He largely relied on adhesive take to get larger projects done. This meant the suits fell apart after a month. Both parents were constantly repairing their own suits and chasing the children around.

“Damn it, one of you legs is going on you.” Alfred muttered, spotting a wet ribbon of tape hanging off Ivan's most back right leg. Ivan looked, hummed in affirmation, and held it out for repair. The stuffing of an old sleeping bag was carefully patted flat and duct taped back in. It would hold maybe a week, but it was better than leaking cold in the cruel night.

Some time was spent shoveling the inner court yard clear. Both exhausted parents went into the sleeping trailer and shut the insulated door behind them. In weak candlelight, all the children could be seen cuddled on the familial web. They were starting to weave their own webs, but lacked critical tension strength.

Much faster to take a suit off than don it, both parents were quickly undressed. They approached the web, silently wondering how the hell they were going to get their sleeping area back. Three of the children blinked sleepily at them, one holding a book and barely conscious.

It was Alissa, Still dressed in her green little sweater. “Story.” she murmured with heavy blinks.

She, like most of the others, was slowly grasping language. It had ten long months, but they were finally getting this words business. The names were coming with this revelation. All of them were naming themselves after broken bits of their adoptive parent's names, but it was better than painting number's on the children's backs. Alfred had been blurred in Alissa, Fredrick, Freya and Eddy. Ivan's name contributed to Ivy, Vanessa, and another Ivan.

Only one child was still non-verbal, #8. Horrifyingly, she now only responded to being called eight. Alfred prayed he wouldn't be smote by the parenting gods for this mistake. Determining gender had finally completed, in a rather unsavoury way. Only males made an excited mess after sufficiently stimulating rubbings of sorts. It was another parenting sin Alfred hoped he could be forgiven for, even if he only committed it for science. The girls became annoyed and tried to bite his hand instead, which was a fair reaction. Such _sharp_ little teeth.

Still, the pile of half asleep children was trying so hard to wait. “Story...” Freya whispered as well, almost out cold. Literally picking some of them up, Both parents crawled onto the web. All the little ones had a subconscious need to cling in rest, grasping blindly in sleep for a secure surface. Instantly attaching to their parent's bodies, all the sleeping ones didn't wake.

Not wanting to stress his already terrible eyesight, Alfred manned the candle holder. Ivan read 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' for the tenth time this week, showing barely awake children the pictures. In no time they all fell asleep.

Certain the little room heater had enough battery power to last the night, both parents blew out the candle and let themselves rest. As Alfred drifted off to dream land, he wondered about that mysteriously weird radio communication. Was there really hundreds of new friends two days away? Was this all an elaborate prank to lure out the cause of the apocalypse for execution? Only time would tell.


	18. Chapter 18

The second that godforsaken can of a freighter ship landed in Port Angeles, Romano was desperate to get off. Escaping that research lab had been a brutal experience. The frightened brothers hid in that observation cell as sick scientists lost their minds, eating each other. Romano couldn't see it but boy could he hear it. The security and power systems were the first to go with no one to regulate them. Right after, all the convicts from northern labs busted free and things went down hill from there.

At first, the convicts turned on their handlers. Anything in a lab coat was shredded to pieces. At first, Romano was puzzled on why his brother saved Director Schmidt. The institution gear was stripped off, and the Director key card ripped to shreds. The blonde German man was an ass hole. His people abducted Romano and Feliciano from their isolated country home. They hadn't been bothering anyone!

For five long days after, the convicts battled each other as ranks were established. There was at least a hundred dead in the end. The child molesters, snitches, and rapists were all completely eliminated, then eaten by starving desperate prisoners. This sated the monsters for a time. It was then that Feli and Romano finally decided to emerge from their dark cell. With no reasonable people left, it was time to join the unreasonable.

It wasn't long before the arsonists, murders, and thugs were warmed over by an alpha male simply named Gilbert. He was a German mafia thug, proud of his heritage. He was as brawny and dumb as he was pale, nearly albino with mutated red eyes. His spider body was grey verging on snow, streaked with black. It was the opposite of the Italian brother's black with dangerous red fade.

Romano came to appreciate his silly brother's wisdom. The blonde they turned was possibly the only sensible German prick in the whole compound. Prior to the place falling apart, Romano heard Schmidt and that crazy nut job Advisor Honda arguing constantly. They bickered at all hours about whether to torture Romano and Feli. You didn't need to understand other languages to know they were lover's quarrels.

Bored out of his mind, the brunette started taking bets on when the Advisor and the Director would break up. Feliciano won the bet by a long shot. You could just tell, listening through that broken vent, that they suddenly stopped conversing. People didn't just do that under normal circumstances.

Director Schmidt seem to be the only one not in favour of deep frying them or chopping them up for fun. He was the only one that brought them fun puzzles like word games or Rubix cubes. He was the only one with enough common sense to know they were basically marshmallows with eight legs. The screaming and crying of the poor bastard a cell over was enough to know the brothers _were_ getting special treatment, purely because of one man's angry word.

So, it was a good thing they turned him, then hid his changing body behind a book shelf. When the chaos briefly calmed, the brothers emerged and befriended the incredibly violent Gilbert. It was quite easy. They simply offered him sunglasses and a shiny chain necklace salvaged from the dead, then told him he looked good in it. Just like that, they were in the powerful 'spider gang'.

With a secret research base supporting seven times more population than it was ever designed for, the situation was dire. By the time the former director survived his transformation and once more behaved properly, there was mere days left of food for everyone.

That was when the Spider gang became cannibal pirates. The less Romano could remember about those 22 days at sea, the better. The absolute worst thing about this was Gilbert thought he was best buddies with Romano. He claimed they 'clicked together on an awesome secret level'. At first, Romano was scared he meant this on a violently romantic level. It was something so much more terrifying.

Gilbert had decided they were best buddies _forever_. It didn't help that Romano shot a man about to attack the German bonehead with a shiv. The brunette's aim was just absolute garbage. He had staged the entire conflict, trying to kill Gilbert but missing horribly. Now they were 'best awesome buddies forever'. Fuck. 

This ball and chain friendship didn't end when Romano got off that shitty boat. No. Gilbert and the very unimpressive spider president's advisor got along magnificently. They got along so well, the crazy albino bastard was given permission from the presidency to form a village of his own.

New Brandenburg. How fucking original! Gilbert chose to recolonize the missile blasted wasteland of Washington City, or whatever it was once called. The lazily dubbed town was shovelled down to bare earth and built in the dead of winter. When the spring thaw came, farms were started and wild dogs were domesticated for their hair. The lesser town had the self control of a toddler and ate all the wild sheep, so dog hair was the only alternative for making wool.

New Brandenburg was almost entirely formed from the larger freighter the gang pirated, welded together with tools from the ship. It was a slightly rusty, but formidable place with order and peace. The best thing to rise out of this piece was Gilbert's sudden decline in respect. Only good for murdering, partying, and drinking, the pale german found his power swept out from under him by his financial advisor Roderich.

Roderich was a political landmine of a man. He was style and manners, he was wit and diplomacy. He was fun at formal dinners, and even more fun to fuck. Romano honestly had no complaints about the unofficial mayor of New Brandenburg. Gilbert was just a pawn, given suitable tasks for a thug.

Today was another late spring morning. It was the time of heat, when all the viable females in town were ready to make new life. It gave a heady sweet scent to the air, making all the men in town lose their brains. Romano was not entirely immune to the effects, but he had laid with Roderich earlier that morning to take the edge off. Both did it out of casual friendship, but also to stay sane.

“I'm the mayor of a whole town, and everyone is getting action but me!” Gilbert whined, absolutely smashed off locally made blackberry wine. He slammed his nearly empty bottle on the table while in his fourth tantrum of the week.

Romano grunted, pushing up his sunglasses. “Yep.” He understood German, but couldn't read it and barely spoke it. He didn't have to say much of anything as it was. English was even more ridiculous to learn, so he generally did chores with Director Schmidt. The humble man knew at least four languages after all.

“You. You're my best bud, you know that? You listen, you really listen. And your so generous and kind... You saved my life man. My old man didn't even, oh my god. I'm out of wine.” Gilbert rambled, still as drunk and horny as he was yesterday.

“Yep.”

“I need to get laid, like, fuck. Man. You know?”

“Totally.” Romano replied, not even listening at all.

Elizabeta walked by, her long chocolate coloured hair in a braid. She had a green knitted sweater with a red and white summer dress, carrying a bag of dried meat home from the market. She was grace, and strength. She was the strongest female in all of town, which made her quite the prize while in heat. It also made her dangerous, since her hormones were all over the place.

“She is just so damn hot. Just look at that butt. And her legs! Goddamn I wanna get stuck in her web.” Gilbert went on very loudly.

Romano took a swig of wine from his own bottle, wishing a space rock would crush his not-friend. He was actually paid in wine by local bars to keep Gilbert busy. If left alone with a drink too long, he had a tendency to fight the bar denizens. “You should go for it. I believe in you.” the Italian replied sarcastically.

“I will. I will best bud. I'm gonna hit that.” Gilbert stood, wiping his face with a sleeve. He grabbed the last bottle of wine on him, put a web bow on it, and sauntered over like he owned the place. Technically, he did.

Romano watched in amusement. He was probably just going to get slapped like yesterday, and the day before. After apparently saying something quite smooth, Gilbert cocked finger guns at Romano and walked off with Elizabeta. Well, it seemed he was capable of being diplomatic. It would be at least ten minutes before he was brutally bitten and clawed from intercourse. Just enough time for Romano to return the empty wine bottles and their lids at the barter exchange shack.

With no formal currency, strictly watched bartering ran the country. It was watched and recorded closely on a blackboard, just like the stock market of ages before. Today Eduard manned the booth with a full automatic rifle slung over his shoulder. No one messed with the barter booth guys. Despite spider body and hair as bright as golden straw, his expression was always a hard flat line. Not much of a smile guy, Romano could understand that.

“Three bottles with lids for ten rabbit pelts.” Romano shoved the bottles and lids on the reclaimed wooden counter, speaking in clunky German.

The items were inspected meticulously. Finally, they were accepted. Six pelts were put on the counter. “Six pelts. The bottles still stink of wine, and the lids are bent.” There was no room for compromise in Eduard's quiet voice, knowing his gun could speak louder.

Grumbling, Romano knew he didn't have enough pull or intimidation to change the price. Besides, the market values were 100% determined by the population's demand for that item. Summer was coming, so animal pelts were dropping in value. At the height of summer, a pile of dog furs was less than a crate of wine. In the dead of winter, all the gold in the world couldn't buy you a fur coat.

Romano was stockpiling fur lately, with his first official snow suit custom made. Like hell he was going out in anything less than fur and designer leather. A less expensive one was being made for Feliciano, since the airhead of a twin would forget how to function without him.

A block from his wooden bachelor pad, Romano heard a familiar scream of agony. Gilbert was getting owned by Elizabeta, unsurprisingly. Still, the Italian was in no rush. He entered his home, stored the furs in a scavenged safe under the floor, and left. Wheeling the 'drunken idiot' wheel barrow to the scene of the crime, the victim was spotted.

Gilbert lay beaten and bloody and the base of Elizabeta's painted wooden door. “Buddy... I'm so glad to see you. I got hit with a skillet, but I totally tapped that. I _did_ it man... I feel woozy.”

“It's probably the blood loss.” Romano muttered, with no empathy at all.

Gilbert limped himself into the wheel barrow, bleeding reddish black blood all over. “Can you take me to the medic lady? My body hurts.”

Wheeling the drunk buffoon along, Romano ignored his charge while stopping to flirt with less vicious girls along the way. Romano was tempted to try a mating or two, but it was an intimidating task. After walking in on Feliciano and Ludwig biting the shit out of each other during sex last week, Romano was convinced all Germans were masochists.

Beyond this lesser boundary, was more problems. Romano had no idea who was dating who, who was married, who was fine with cheating... New Brandenburg was so new, there was no clear cut indicators of what was safe to sample. So, for this year at least, Romano was staying on the sidelines. Unlike Gilbert who was chasing everything in sight, Romano was going to live to next year.

The medic shack was a bombed out former diner with the official entry in the back. People would check in, waiting outside on provided stools. After being examined in the 'examination room' kitchen, patients would be sent into the 'medical care' dining area to be tended to or sewn up.

Having already mated with three other hormonal unstable women, and failing five introductions, Gilbert had been here almost everyday for two weeks. The pale moron even hit on the older nurse, earning him a scalpel in the hand three days ago.

The older nurse saw Gilbert, bleeding and pitiful. She looked to Romano with exasperation. “He's technically the mayor.” Romano pointed out.

“Fine. Bring him in to be stitched up.” She replied after a long minute.

“I'll be fine. I'm Gilbert the awesome...” Gilbert groaned, not looking so good.

With chief bozo in safe hands, Romano was free to have the rest of the day off. First things first, a bath. When three water fountains were found to be still functioning, they became the basis of the New Brandenburg Bathhouse. This building was the jewel of the town, made with only stone, clean metals, and the nicest wood flooring. To start, you bartered for tokens with the entry guards.

Since the bathhouse could only deal with forty people at a time comfortably, you couldn't enter without these tokens. Even that line was anywhere from ten to thirty people long. Bath tokens were becoming so valuable that you could even use them at other vendors as currency. There was only 800 bath tokens in existence, each carved uniquely and recorded by Roderich's cold blooded goons.

Forgery was not taken lightly when it came the the bathhouse. Fresh water and hygiene were essential to the town not becoming diseased. The bath tokens were tracked and recorded at most stages of use. Today, Romano was thankful for this strict regime of clean water supply. He simply felt disgusting after so many days of dragging his designated moron around. In one of five large stone pools, Romano listened to rumours as he soaked the stresses of the week away.

“Did you see that newcomer?”

“She had a strange accent. I think it was Russian.”

“That's crazy. Everyone knows the Russians are hiding where it's too cold for the virus.”

“Did you see the military advisor? I think someone finally got all the way with her.”

“Eliza's the strongest chick in town. No one is dumb enough to try.”

“Did you see Vash's new baby? Where do you think he found it?”

“It's just the cutest, but not as cute as my Maxwell.”

“You say that about every baby.”

Ah sweet wonderful bathhouse. You could learn everything new and juicy about the town in ten minutes. After a quick twenty minute scrub and soak, Romano was on his way to the tastiest rumour of all, a _newcomer_.


	19. Chapter 19

The newcomer. A rumour around town even drifted to Ivan's isolated house in the national park. Mayor Gilbert 'the awesome' insisted on sending mail deliverly by, to drop off weekly reports on New Brandenburg. This week's report was actually vaguely interesting. Browsing the salvaged shirt filled with writing, Ivan folded it after he finished reading. Salvaged T-shirts too thin for insulation were commonly used as scrolls or impromptu signs, hung off of a stick going through both sleeves.

A person had the tendency to own several 'scrolls' of their own that they washed and reused hundred of times. Colourful tank tops and sleeveless things were typically used as rags, flags and store banners. Folding the scrolls to be wash clean later, Ivan resumed drinking his glass of water as he watched the children play. Being a parent to eight children, farming his own food, and being the president was exhausting. Even sharing the load with Alfred they were winded.

Laying on the ground, Alfred was too lazy to move. Ivan thought it was cute. Even when the sunny blonde was exhausted he was trying to engage the children. Alfred really was a great partner to have. As the kids played around him, the man-spider simply relaxed with his head propped up on his arms.

“Any interesting news?” Alfred asked, uncaring as young Fredrick and Ivan coloured on their father with primitive wax crayons.

Parent Ivan nodded. “A new business registered and opened in town borders. A 'body art station'. I guess painting exoskeletons is coming into style.”

“Weird. Unless I get to look like an American flag.”

“That is an option. The second it rains you're going to bleed paint all over the house.” Ivan pointed out, ever the optimist.

“Anything else?”

“A new person walked into town, apparently speaking nonsense and looking for me.”

“Want to investigate?” Alfred asked, as bored as he was tired.

“I finished most of the chores I had, so I don't see why not.” That pesky spring heat was faded out of the air. Maybe Ivan could finally enter civilization without dragging Alfred into an alley and sexually consuming him. Thankfully the children hadn't been awake in the back of the car the last time both parents lost control.

Raging gasoline fires during the initial chaos of the apocalypse meant most of Washington was almost completely out of gas and levelled with ashes. Even the Olympic National Park was badly hit, some areas nothing but sooty tree stumps. This mean using odd alternatives for transportation. The family car was now pulled by a mutant spider... _thing_ the kids named “Scuffles”. It was huge, black and orange striped, and hungered for bone marrow. It almost resembled a beetle on steroids, but with just enough intelligence in those blank eyes to make you question your soul's integrity.

Ivan could only guess it mutated over the last two years from increasingly primitive stock. It retained enough human memory to follow instruction, but not much else. More brazen entrepreneurs were breeding the morally uncomfortable creatures for pulling carts, call them “bone-oxen”.

“Scuffle time!” some kids cheered, going to check by the chicken coop for fresh bones. The only saving grace of the bone-oxen was their crushing stupidity. The monsters were too dim to know bones were inside people thanks to severe domestication. It was the only thing stopping everyone's rides from eating them. This was not enough of a comfort for Ivan, who always had a rifle on hand to put their new car out of it's misery.

“Scuffle! Scuffle!” Ivan Junior called out, a hand full of bloody chicken bones in his hands. Just as he left the protected inner court yard, the giant beast approached from it's dug out nest nearby. The child giggled as the thing ate all the bones, then licked his hand clean. The child's parents had lesser heart attacks as they watched this, but said nothing. There was absolutely no recorded incidents of bone-oxen eating their handlers... yet.

Understanding dimly, the monster let itself be hitched up to the car-turned-wagon. Everyone piled inside, while the parents sat on the hood with guns. With a flick of the rope reins, the family was off to town. Taking route 112, it wound through rampant woods and coastal views. After roughly an hour, they arrived at the outskirts of blackened city ruins, and the high metal walls of New Brandenburg. The population was painted on the wall, currently listed as “Probably 800, welcome to the best town in America!” There was a garbage and bone pit not far from the brightly coloured entrance.

Here, the car was 'parked', leaving Scuffles to graze on garbage and animal products with two other bone-oxen. “Okay... once we go inside, you all have to stick together. It's a big place, and you can't just go running –” The kids all bolted off in all directions the second they were welcomed inside by four tough guards.

With a sharp tug of the 'parenting rope', they all fell over from their own momentum. Each child was tied in a long line by the waist, forced to obey. It was actually given to Ivan as a gift from a nice woman with six kids of her own. The parenting rope was a blessing of heaven.

“Bath house!” “Candy!” “Puppies!” “I don't wanna!” “I need to poop!” Ivan stopped by a public outhouse, but ignored every other request. Alfred led the way to the children park at the heart of New Brandenburg. It was essentially a toy filled pit parents dumped their children in for a maximum of one hour at a time. Due to the town's criminal patronage, sometimes you just needed an hour to go get drunk, or gamble, or do trading.

Ivan paid the fee for one hour, tying a blue coloured band around each of the kids. The banding system changed colours every one to two hours, as a means of tracking when parents had to return. Handing over a can of preserved deer meat, the parents now had maybe an hour or so to investigate this new visitor.

The children were oblivious, racing into the extremely guarded pit to play with at least ten other children. People had been almost killed by the six very serious guards for trying to take children before. Seeing military goons of that calibre guarding the youth, it made Ivan's anxious mind relax.

Now to see to the newcomer. She been arrested and brought to the jail for loitering around vendors and being exceptionally creepy. No one could understand a thing she said. Ivan appeared before the jail, a burnt out IHOP now reinforced and separated into steel prison cells. Three females with swords and pistols leaned against the locked door, bowing deeply upon seeing Ivan. Their blue and white tabards signified they were police of a sort.

“Mr. President. It's an honour to see you today.”

“Where is the stranger, the one with no name?” Ivan requested, already growing tired of socializing. New Brandenburg could be quite overwhelming to visit.

“Right this way sir. We couldn't disarm her, but she was willing to be arrested. Normally we have to beat suspects unconscious.” Subtle kind law enforcers, these ladies were not.

Strolling past three drunks in their cells, a rail thin mutant with silvery grey exoskeleton was shivering in a corner. Her skin was gaunt, face hidden in a long dark blue cloak hood. Looking up, she called out clearly in Russian, “Please, I'm just looking for my son!”

Her ash blonde hair, withered and dry. Her somehow familiar face, heavy scarred and near bloodless. Those dark eyes, blue and cold, yet very frightened. A chill of recognition swept through Ivan at the instinctive level. It couldn't be... She was supposed to be dead...

“Mama?” Ivan whispered, not caring if he looked insane.

She looked at Ivan, really looked at him. Finally, she slipped off her hood completely and smiled warmly. “My baby. My baby... Your my little baby...”

“Open the door now.” Ivan ordered having switched to English.

The door opened and the guard stood back, swords drawn. Despite bristling with knives, the haggard parent didn't react at all. Only focused on her son, the world didn't matter. “My little baby...”

Ivan pulled her into a crushing then very soft hug. “Mama I love you. I love you so much. I missed you, Mama... I love you, I love...” His words started dissolving, emotion drowning him in the joy of this reunion. His Mama was back, she wasn't dead, she was really really _back_.

They clung to each other in the 'visitor's room', which was really an empty corner with bean bag chairs. Memorizing her vaguely flowery scent, with a chase of dusty musk. Her kisses. Her hugs. “My little baby Ivan. I love you. I'll always love you. I'll do anything for you, my dearest sweetest little boy.” She cooed softly, kissing cheeks hurting from smiling.

Ivan was cuddled and petted, kissed and whispered soviet lullabies. His heart was content. He didn't care if the town didn't trust Natalya. He didn't care about the obviously illegal science stuff she committed in the past. Ivan's Mama was back, and no one was going to take her away ever again.


	20. Chapter 20

Clean white metal hallways stretching in all directions. There was only sounds of machinery, soft whirring in the distance. All halls lead to an atrium filled with light. It streamed down to a small indoor garden of wild flowers. A beautiful woman stood among the blooms, her lab coat as bright as angel's wings. Her blonde hair was of spun gold, artificial sunlight glinting off her glasses.

Oh sweet Astrid, _perfect_ scientist and wife. Tino could only hope his beloved could forgive him. He had finished his secret mission at research base 'Heilen' in the Pacific ocean. Like always, there was complications. As the base went rabid, Tino was clawed by a lesser mutant while hacking Director Schmidt's office. It had been much too long since the Finnish man's last immunization shot, and the viral infection took hold.

Tino had cleaned up the best he could since arriving at the couple's underground vault, but he couldn't wash away being a monster. With a deep breath, he walked into the atrium. His spidery feet tacked on the smooth metal floor with each step. It only reminding him of the price he paid for this mission.

Sharp ocean blue eyes of Astrid zeroed in on his movement, Swedish accent heavy. “My love. You return.”

“Astrid... I retrieved the files and video, but I became infected. I... waited too long to use my last immunization shot.” Tino admitted woefully.

His angel of a wife was tall and fearsome, not one to be pushed around. She was ambition and grace as she left the garden and walked towards him. “Don't be so sad. You could never do wrong my husband. Did you get everything?”

“Everything. Everything for you.” Monster of science or otherwise, Tino missed his wife after seven long months away. He hugged her tightly, kissing her, memorizing everything about her. Tino wasn't sure he could survive a covert operation that long again, though he'd never admit it.

Astrid didn't care if he was... _changed_. She squeezed back and kissed just as passionately. “I missed you so much.” She then giggled, a rare fleeting sound from a typically colder person. “You're as tall as me now love. Now I don't need to reach up cupboards for you.” She traced feather light touches along Tino's now scarred body, through his hair, briefly exploring his pale grey and brown arachnid body.

The man shuddered, then ignored his long suppressed sexual tensions to hand her several memory keys. “Everything was gathered. The German's discoveries, their goals. What they were doing with the infected fetuses... Everything. I hope it was worth the resources.”

“What about our social experiments?” Astrid asked, giving him one last peck on the cheek before walking back to their lab.

“They all went perfectly. The drugged food, the broken vents, it was very easy. All the staff and convicts were tagged with tracking devices. The staff believe it was to stop the turrets from shooting them, but the turrets were just a ruse. I hacked the cameras and recorded any notable reactions. At stage two, I shut off power to everything but the armoury and the cameras. I saved all the footage so we can watch together.” Tino reported brightly, once more his happy self. He held hands with his wife as they strolled.

“There was... complications while you were gone. Natalya Arlovskaya broke after a series of psychological experiments. It was more of an annoyance than a loss, but several people disagreed with how I handled it.” Astrid spoke quietly.

“They didn't understand what we're trying to do.”

“No. So I released the traitors into the wastes to become infected the same as Natalya. Anything she knew, we know now.”

“So, you killed her?” Tino asked curiously as they arrived at their personal laboratory. It was a crisp hygienic place strewn with photos of their deceased family and son. Peter, their only child. Peter, who would live again. Everything was lovingly cleaned at Tino's station, the same as the day he left it.

“No, I released her near her son. She's half mad and going to die in a few years, so there was no harm. No one will ever believe what she says.”

“Smart, and so compassionate.” Tino complimented her as he put on his old lab coat. The upper half was loose and the other half barely covered his spider abdomen. _Useless_.

“I'll get that tailored...” Astrid muttered at she tried to straighten the wrinkles out.

“What about Peter?” Tino asked, curious to see progress on their true goal.

“With Miss Arlovskaya's research on cancer control and telemeres, our son will live twice as long as before. He will technically have cancer from day one, but it will be improvised super healing. At least, we think so. Dr. Baker's mind is starting to break as well, but he finally revealed how to reduce genetic degradation.”

“If only he agreed to help us from the start.” the husband hummed, no remorse spared for a fool. “Can I... see Peter. I miss my son.”

“He's close to complete.”

The couple chose to walk to the lower levels instead of taking the elevator. It was partially routine, but equally sentiment. Tino longed for any sort of contact at all after seven terrible months away from his love. So, the couple took the scenic route to the clone chambers, hand in hand. No one was stupid enough to comment on Tino's newly acquired condition.

The reunited lovers passed rooms lined with security monitors, showing dozens of captured scientists trapped for years. There was hydroponics labs filled with leafy plants. There was vivisection bays, lined with spectator people of science. There was many things in this secure underground paradise. All of these workers, these truly enlightened people, they all believed in Astrid's dream.

They believed in a true human, immune to disease, to cancer. They believed the future could only be made better, no matter the price. No matter the cost, even a plague or apocalypse, humanity must be improved. It had to be, so the world would be a better place when Peter was reborn. He may have died once, but it would be the very last time.

Finally before the most important chamber, a sealed vault door cranked and turned a noisy series of tumblers within. Finally, it opened with a whoosh of medically sterile air. Inside was a temple, an unearthly shrine to science. The tall chamber was back lit, watery light dappling everything through blue tubes of medical fluid. Every chamber held a foetal occupant, but not all were equal. Towards the centre was the most perfect, the most wonderful specimen to survive thus far. This could be it. This could finally be _Peter_.

“No matter what epidemic we have to engineer. We will cleanse the world, until it's pure enough for you. We love you son. We'll make it perfect, just like Astrid. Just like you.” Tino mumbled, already in love with the fragile being floating before him. 

“You're such a good dad. I love you so much” Astrid murmured, as she blushed and beheld her latest clone creation.

“I hope so. I only want to make the world better.” Tino would make the outside lands immaculate, with his wife and many others alongside him. This time, no government body would stop the couple in their holy quest of beneficial science. Nothing would stop the truth.

**END**

_“The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”  
—John Ray (1670)_


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